These Unseen Moments
by AllThingsInsane
Summary: AU. A one-shot series that directly relates to the two stories I published: "Missing" and "Through the Storm." You saw the early moments for Sam and Dean after the death of their parents. Now, dig a little deeper as you experience Dean's first salt and burn, first girlfriend, and all the moments in between.
1. Chapter 1

**Dean's First Salt and Burn**

_1989_

Dean Winchester was special. Even the casual observer would notice that there was something different about the quiet, but always intuitive little boy.

Most people at his school and around their town, felt sorry for him. His mother had died in a horrible fire in their home, followed shortly after that by his father in an unexplained "accident" out in the wilderness.

And while all of that was true, they didn't know that Dean wasn't a miserable child. Sure, he had his moments when he missed and longed for his parents, but he was far from the bruised or scarred child they assumed him to be.

Thanks to the careful and loving way in which he, his brother Sam, and their guardians had moved foreword, he had been able to set aside the pain and focus on the day to day aspect of his life.

And that included learning everything he could about the "family business."

A freak accident had awakened him to the fact that there was something else going on besides the fact that his parents had died in unexplainable accidents.

A demon that had been caught redhanded in Sam's room, had alerted him to the fact that there was another world than just the one he lived in. Beyond that, was a secretive world of people who hunted down and killed things, like the thing that had killed his family.

His own guardians did it.

Jim didn't relish that aspect of the life. He accepted the responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders, but he didn't jump in head first, with both guns blazing either.

That was more Caleb's style.

"Just let me work with him," Dean could remember Caleb pleading with Jim to allow him the chance to learn to defend himself.

"At _nine_?"

"Some kids learn a _lot _younger. We've been lucky up until this point."

And they had been, but now that Dean had seen the demon, and had been exposed to the hunting life, it was only natural and _safe_ to train him up, to make sure he possessed all the tricks of the trade.

So Caleb started working with him.

At only nine, he was a little too young to be perfect roundhouse kicks, and other knockout punches, but he could be taught to learn how to handle salt and burns, and how to handle the matches and gasoline that went with it.

It was a delicate and dangerous task, teaching a nine-year-old how to properly and _safely _light a match, but Dean did it effortlessly.

His brain was like a sponge, constantly absorbing whatever information it received. And it showed, by his third week of training, he had gotten all the rules down that Caleb had taught him, and could recite them off the top of his head if asked.

"What's the number one rule?" Caleb asked, after Dean had finished showing him how he was supposed to light a match.

"Don't run."

"And the second?"

"Make sure you throw it at the skeleton, not at people."

"Very good."

Dean positively _beamed _when he received the praise.

* * *

The day finally came a few months later that Caleb felt like Dean was finally ready to accompany him on his very first salt and burn case.

"Are you sure you know the ins and outs of this case?" Jim asked skeptically, as they discussed the matter over coffee the morning of the hunt.

"Yeah, absolutely," Caleb said, waving his concern away with a wave of his hand. "I wouldn't even_ consider _bringing him if it was something that would get out of hand."

"Yeah, but the problem is that you _don't _know," Jim pointed out. "How many hunters have said that before?"

"All it will be is digging up the stiff, and flaming her ass."

Jim sighed, clearly not comfortable with the idea. "You'll get him out of there if the situation turns around?"

"Would I _not_?"

"You're right, just be careful."

"Always."

The guys each considered the boy's safety to be of top priority to them, and that most certainly included when they were training them to hunt, and when they allowed them to experience a taste of what the supernatural life held for them.

Once Dean and Caleb arrived at the graveyard a few miles away from their town, Caleb immediately set off for the grave marker in question. It wasn't hard to spot, especially since he knew what he was looking for.

"How did she die?" Dean asked, holding the flashlight as Caleb began the arduous process of digging the stiff up.

"Suicide," Caleb said. "Her spirit lingered, though, and salting and burning the bones is the only way to make sure she stays connected to the other side."

"Oh."

Once Caleb had finished digging up the grave, he motioned for Dean to come closer. "Okay," he said, handing him the lighter and gasoline. "Pour it on the skeleton first."

Dean obeyed, his hands shaking with excitement as he poured a liberal amount on, before screwing the cap back on securely.

"Now I light the match?"

"Yes," Caleb said, hoisting himself out of the grave. "Keep your hand steady, and throw it immediately."

Dean nodded intently, as he struck the match against the box, and was rewarded when the flame immediately blazed to life.

Looking at Caleb for a split second, he didn't hesitate before throwing the flame on top of the exposed corpse.

"I did it," Dean whispered.

"You did, bud," Caleb said. "I'm so proud of you."

* * *

_This is a series of one-shots that directly relates to my 'verse that I created centering on the family of Caleb/Jim/Bobby and Sam and Dean after the loss of John and Mary. These little one-shots are not in any order. Some will be in the general timeline of the two stories I published, and some will take place a few or several years into the future. _

_I hope you enjoy!_

_-Casey_


	2. Chapter 2

**Dean tells Sam about their parents **

_1988_

Few things can be as trying (not to mention frustrating), than losing a parent, and not being able to remember the silliest details about them. Such was the case for a five-year-old Sam Winchester.

From the details he had been allowed to know, his Mom had died first, followed by his father a short time after that.

When he asked, in confusion, why he couldn't remember his Mom's laugh, or the rumble of his father's voice, the answer would always be that he was too young to remember.

He had only been a baby when they had died. Too young to form memories of them, too young to know them or have any recollections of what they were like.

It was sad for Sam.

Dean, his big brother, had memories of them. He talked all the time about playing T-ball, and throwing the football around with their dad.

Not to mention the outrageous wrestling matches they would get into, where one or both of them would end up falling on the couch, much to the bemusement of Mary.

So, squaring his shoulders like he was on a mission, Sam marched up the stairs to where he knew Dean was studying, and walked in.

"Dude, ever hear of knocking?" Dean asked, glancing up when he heard the pitter-patter of Sam's little feet, as he stood in the doorway.

"I know, but I have a question," Sam said, in that whiny tone of his.

Putting his pencil down, Dean looked at his brother as he invited himself further into the room, situating himself on his Batman-themed bed.

"What?"

"What were Mom and Dad like?"

Sam watched as Dean sighed, looking down at his feet, and then away from him as he sniffled.

"Why don't you go ask Caleb or Jim," Dean finally said, his voice unusually dry, and Sam couldn't figure out why.

"But I wanted to ask _you_. You know them better than I did, and I want to know what they were like."

Sam watched as Dean conducted an internal debate with himself, before getting off his desk chair, and sitting down next to Sam.

"Okay, well," he said, clearing his throat. "The first thing you need to know is that Dad was a superhero."

Sam's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, as he absorbed Dean's words. "Like James Bond?"

"Cooler."

It was difficult accurately describing their parents to a five-year-old and have him understand just how important they were, and what they meant not only to Sam, but for his big brother as well.

"What was he like?"

Dean had been five when John had died, not young enough to not have memories, and not old enough to have anything beyond simple flashbacks.

"Dad was...Dad was _amazing_," Dean finally said, mustering up the words that he felt described their Dad. "He liked playing football with me."

"Why didn't he play with me?"

"You were too little," Dean explained, "and he liked to show me under the hood of his car, and how to fix stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Did he like superheros?"

Dean nodded, pausing before he spoke in order to regain his battered emotions as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah, he did."

Sam was silent for a minute as his tiny brain took in everything that Dean had just told him. It was more than he had ever heart about his parents, and he was desperate for more, as he tried to form a picture of them in his brain based off what Dean was telling him.

"What about Mom?"

Dean smiled, though it came out shaky. "Mom was...Mom was beautiful."

"_Really_?" Sam asked, leaning foreword eagerly as though Dean were telling him a story. "What else?"

"She had a really nice voice, and a funny laugh. And she was really nice."

"Did she like me?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Duh. She liked _both _of us. She used to sing to me before I went to bed."

That was one of his earliest memories of his Mom, and he treasured it. Every night, after John had finished reading to him, she would come in and kneel down beside him and sing to him.

"What did she sing?"

"Hey Jude," Dean said, his eyes misting over. "Sometimes she would make up some of the lyrics if she couldn't remember, but it was always really pretty."

"Wow," Sam said, clearly in awe.

"And before you went to bed, she would pick me up and hold me over your crib so I could kiss you goodnight."

"Did she kiss me goodnight, too?"

"Every single night," Dean assured him. "She was amazing."

Sam nodded, agreeing with his statement. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean nodded, pinching the bridge between his nose and his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just get a little sad when I think about them."

That was why he avoided talking about them whenever possible. It was just easier to not think about them, and save himself further misery over the fact that they weren't there anymore.

"Like the feeling you get when your tummy hurts?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, exactly like that."

Sliding off the bed, he got down on the floor and got down on his stomach, and reached under his bed for the box he always kept there.

"What's in that?" Sam asked, watching Dean's progress.

"Some things of Dad's that Caleb gave me awhile ago."

Everything in their house had perished in the fire, but the stuff John had collected after the fire, was still intact as Dean opened the shoebox-size box, and looked down at the things inside.

It was his most prized possession, having things of his father.

"What's in there?"

Taking out a photograph, Dean handed it to Sam. "That's Dad, and Mom. One of Dad's friends handed it to him after the fire, since he didn't have any photographs anymore."

Sam stared down at the picture, a lump unexpectedly growing in his throat as he looked at his parents for the first time.

"Mom looks like you, Dean," Sam said.

"Really?"

Sam had no idea how that simple statement affected his big brother, as Dean took a second to swallow back the tears that had formulated in his eyes.

"Yeah."

Dean nodded. "Dad looks like you."

"Thanks, De," Sam said, using his nickname for Dean.

"You can have it," Dean said, looking at the photograph. "I have another one in the box."

"Sweet!" Sam said, using a word he knew his brother would have used. "Thanks, De."

"Anytime, Sammy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Dean Wants to Know**

_1990_

Few things were as confusing and complicated as girls. Almost every aspect of his life, Dean understood. He understood the hunting aspect, he understood that his family lived the kind of life that people only dreamed about in their worst nightmares.

But girls?

They were a whole other species that he had yet to conquer. Everything about them confused him, from the way they gossiped with their friends, to how they moved and especially how they thought.

Years ago when he was a little kid, they grossed him out.

Now they intrigued him.

He even felt a physical pull toward some of them. And that was a whole other bridge he had to cross, dealing with the physical changes of his body as well as his fluctuating hormones.

One girl in particular stuck out to him.

Katie, a grade ahead of him, and seemingly taken, judging by the gushy and gooey hand holding she had been doing with her boyfriend.

He knew enough to not get in between a girl and her boyfriend, but it still frustrated him. Of course he would start to like girls, and have the one girl he had ever liked, already be with someone.

Weighing his options as he got home from school, he tried to busy his mind with pointless tasks as he got out some of his homework, and worked on that.

Talking to Jim was pointless. He would probably spout out something religious, or tell him how to control his urges, which would be completely useless to him.

He needed to learn how to cope.

How _not _to make mistakes.

Not learn how to control it, as if there was any of that when he was faced with that much temptation at school, and his own inbred personality, which only complicated things.

"Hey," Dean said, walking downstairs to their finished basement, where Caleb was.

"Hey, dude. How was school?"

"Good," Dean said, throwing himself down in the recliner. "I needed to talk about something."

"What?"

"Um..." Dean nervously scratched a spot behind his ear. "I don't know."

"Spit it out," Caleb said with a smile.

"I'm _trying_!" Dean said with a laugh.

But how was he supposed to broach that subject? It was so awkward, even with someone he could trust like Caleb, and someone he felt comfortable talking about almost anything with.

"Tongue tied?"

"I just...I wanted..."

"Look, whatever you're embarrassed to tell me," Caleb said, "just do it, because I can guarantee I've probably heard it before, anyway."

Dean shrugged, not arguing his point.

He probably had. He had been married, and probably had tons more experience than he did.

"I wanted to know about girls," Dean finally choked out. "I have this feelings, and-"

"And you need to know how to cope with them?" Caleb surmised.

"Yeah, kind of," Dean said sheepishly.

"Come over here," Caleb said, patting the couch space beside him.

Dean obeyed, as he sat down next to him. "How can I control it?"

"You can't," Caleb said bluntly. "If you're attracted to a girl, it's difficult to learn the right way to cope, but you can." 

"How?"

"Just make sure that your intentions are pure with whoever you like. It's not cool if you go into a relationship with the sole purpose being that you end up..."

"Having sex?"

Caleb nodded. "Yes. You have to walk away sometimes, you have to swallow it back or shove it back as far as it can go."

"But what if I want to date one of those girls?"

"You don't go alone, not until you're older."

"Is it even okay to date at my age?"

Even though he was only eleven, he knew many of his friends that had dated well before that even, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that, or how his guardians were supposed to handle that.

"Well," Caleb said thoughtfully, as he wound an arm around Dean's shoulders. "Jim thought that he could control all that, and keep you boys from dating until you fifteen or sixteen."

"Yeah, right," Dean said with a scoff.

"Well, he has a point, but I think that as long as it's supervised, there's no reason you can't go out in a group setting."

"So no kissing?"

"Not until you're older. It's okay to test the waters, but you have to make sure that you're protecting yourself, and whoever you're with."

"Yeah, that's true. Thanks."

"Anytime, day or night."

"Even at one in the morning?"

Caleb shook his head in amusement. "I can't promise I'll be much help, but you can try." 

"Okay."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sam's First Brush With the Law**

_1997_

Decisions had consequences. Decisions ran both ways, some could be good, some bad. You are faced with decisions constantly in your daily life, almost from the time you can start walking and talking.

Don't climb up the stairs without permission.

Don't eat that last slice of cake.

Don't score bad on your report card.

As Sam Winchester was well aware, decisions had consequences. Actions had repercussions, and they may very well not be the type of consequence you envisioned for yourself.

Sam knew all about that as he sat in the small, bare holding cell of the county jail. A mistake had landed him there, at only fourteen.

A mistake.

An action he _knew _would land him there, an action he knew he could have gotten himself out of had he been strong enough to stand up to his friends.

The shatter of glass still echoed in his ears.

The wail of the car alarm still sounded like a fog horn as he tried to drown it out by humming a song his brother had memorized.

And the worst part? Seeing his friends leave, abandoning him with the stolen car radio as the store owner ran out, grabbed Sam roughly by his elbow, and towed him inside to call the police.

As a solitary tear slid down his cheek, he remembered the police questioning him, hearing his denials that he had been the one to steal the radio.

He hadn't.

His friends had, but they had dumped it in his arms when they had seen the store owner come out.

Of course, the police wouldn't believe a word from a kid who was barely even a teenager. The most terrifying part was when he had been handcuffed and read his rights.

It made the situation realer. It jolted him back to reality in the most horrible way possible.

"Sam Winchester?" He lifted his head up when the stern-faced police officer opened the cell door. "Your guardian posted bail for you."

Standing up shakily, he allowed the officer to lead him back through the halls and toward the entrance to the jail.

He didn't care how much trouble he wold be in after, he was just relieved to be out of that filthy place, and back at home where he belonged.

Caleb was standing there waiting for him. His face smoothed out into a careful smile when he saw Sam, as he stepped foreword to give him a hug.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Sam nodded, unable to speak.

After finishing his discussion with the police officer, he opened the door and allowed Sam his first taste of freedom in several hours.

"Do you want any water?" Caleb asked, once they were buckled in the car and on the way back home.

Sam shook his head.

"Sam, are you okay?"

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

No matter how incriminating the situation looked, Caleb always gave the boys a chance to defend themselves before passing judgment. It was something both boys admired about him, but right now it was only making Sam feel guiltier and guiltier.

"I was with my friends," Sam began miserably, but was cut off almost instantly.

"What friends?"

Another rule he had broken. These friends he had only just met, and he knew that Caleb or Jim had to meet them before he was allowed to go out with them.

"You didn't know them."

"What did you guys do?"

No judgment, just carefully controlled curiosity, even though Caleb undoubtedly heard the whole story from the police station.

"We were going to hang out at this store, and then they saw this car, and wanted to take the radio out of it."

A few more tears had slipped out of Sam's eyes as he tried rubbing them away with little luck. It had all been so stupid, and he had gotten in trouble for something that could have easily been avoided.

"Did you know that was on their agenda?" 

"No."

"And were you the one to take the radio?" Caleb asked calmly.

"No, they did, but when they saw the owner of the store, they bailed and left me with the radio."

Caleb nodded as they pulled into their street. "So you realize that these people are not your friends, right?"

Sam nodded.

"They left you alone to deal with the fallout of something they did. But you still had a part, right?"

Sam nodded. "I could have stopped them, I could have done something."

"You, right now, Sam, are being considered as an accessory to a crime. Do you know what that means?"

Sam nodded. "Yes."

"You didn't commit the crime, but you witnessed it and did nothing to stop it."

"Yes."

"Sam, I just don't understand why you would risk going to jail for these people. That's not like you."

"Because I didn't know what they were like-" 

"And that's why you have us to tell you who you can and can't be friends with. You know the rules, we have to meet these people before you go out with them. How did you even get out of the house?"

"I said I was going out with people you knew."

"So you lied?" Caleb confirmed calmly.

"Yes."

"You have to be punished. You know that, right?"

"Isn't being in jail punishment enough?"

Caleb shrugged. "Well, I want to make sure. For the next month, you don't get to go out to do anything, except maybe help me in my shop. No trips to the arcade, no movies, no dinners out. Nothing."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Am I going to jail?"

Caleb shook his head. "I highly doubt it. You're a first time offender, and the judge will consider that, and the fact that you're a minor."

"I'm really sorry, Caleb."

"I know you are, Sam. I want you to know that, no matter what you might do or what your brother might do, I will never stop loving either of you." 

"Thanks. I love you, too. So what next?"

"Next," Caleb said with a sigh. "We go home and we figure it out from there."


	5. Chapter 5

**Telling Jim-Sam's Brush With the Law (part 2)**

_1997, a a few hours after Sam's arrest_

As the modest family-style home loomed before them, Sam sighed. The gravity of what he had done, had started to sink in, and now the only thing he felt was cold regret as he thought about the actions that had led him there, and what he could have changed to avoid them.

Now, besides having a record at only fourteen, he had been grounded from the things that he loved, and the friends that he loved so much.

"I'm sorry," Sam said again, as the car pulled into the garage, which had been filled to capacity with different tools and toolboxes.

"I know you are," Caleb said, turning to face him. "And I accept your apology, but it still won't change the fact that you have to be punished."

Sam nodded.

It was fair, and he knew it. He was lucky that it wasn't worse, he supposed. A month would go by fast if he was lucky, and he would be able to enjoy his things again, with a smile on his face.

"Don't tell Jim."

When his bail had first been posted, he had the sinking thought that maybe it was Jim coming to bail him out.

If there was one thing he was afraid of, it was telling Jim that he had been arrested. Jim, who was a pastor at their local Church, would definitely have a stronger reaction to it than Caleb had had, and Sam wanted to avoid it.

"I'm not," Caleb said, as they got out of the car and prepared to go in the house. "You are."

"Caleb," Sam whined. "I already went through hell this afternoon, please don't make me do this."

"It's not my fault that you chose to hang out with those kids and let yourself get arrested for theft, is it?"

"No, but-"

"Well, you do the crime, you do the talking. Let's go."

Glaring his resentment, he followed Caleb in the house, threw his coat on the back of the chair and proceeded to the living room, where he sank down into the recliner, hoping by some miracle to get lost in it.

"Sam, go get your video games," Caleb said gently, but firmly. "Right now."

"Fine."

Sam trudged upstairs where he unhooked his various video game consoles, and took them downstairs, handing them to Caleb.

"Thank you."

"Can I watch TV?"

"What do you think?"

"I think no."

"Then you're right."

Knowing what was coming, and hoping to get it over with as soon as possible, Sam turned and went down the hall to Jim's office.

"Hey," he said, when he saw Jim typing something on his computer.

"Hey, sport," he said, looking up from his work. "Where have you been?"

"Um, out. Look, can you come out in the living room? Caleb and I have something to tell you."

"Yeah, sure."

Walking back out to the living room, Sam sat down on the couch next to Caleb, as Jim took a seat on the recliner.

"Sam has something he needs to tell you," Caleb said.

"What?" Jim asked, his face subtly changing from one of calm, to one of worry and suspicion in a second flat.

"I got arrested."

"You...what?"

"I was with my friends, and they broke into this car and forced the radio out. I didn't do anything, but the cops grabbed me anyway."

Jim was silent for several minutes as he absorbed the weight of what Sam had just divulged to him. Rarely had they ever had problems like that with the boys.

Dean, who was naturally the more outlandish one, had never been arrested for something like that. But Sam, who was the more studious and quieter one, had been arrested.

"You know, that's really stupid."

Sam nodded. "I know, believe me. I get it."

"You were responsible for someone's car being broken into, and watched as your friends took something from someone."

"I never did anything."

"That still doesn't excuse the fact that you stood by and let it happen. A radio is worth a lot of money, Sam, and your friends clearly did not care about that at all."

"That's another thing," Caleb said from beside him. "He lied about who he was with tonight. I guess he told you that those were people that we had met, but they weren't."

"Sam, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't."

"You know that we have to approve everyone that you plan on hanging out with outside of school."

"I know all that."

"Then why did you go like that?"

"Because I thought I knew who they were. I thought they were my friends."

The lying, while still a big issue, wasn't as nearly as big as the potential case that would be built against Sam.

"What about this radio, and the cops. What did you say to them?"

"I told them I never stole it. It was my friends, but they didn't believe me because they ran off before they got there."

Of course they wouldn't believe the word of a kid. Especially one that had just been caught redhanded with the stolen merchandise.

"And another thing," Caleb said, "the radio was worth more than two hundred bucks, which makes this a felony charge."

"You have to be punished," Jim said. "You understand that."

"He already is," Caleb said.

"What's the punishment?"

"A month without anything. Video games, friends, everything. To school and back, and sometimes he can help me at my shop."

"That seems fair," Jim nodded. "Right, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter what I think anyway. You guys decide everything for me."

"Yeah," Caleb said, "because you're still a kid, and when you're a kid, you have parents or guardians to tell you what's right and what's not."

"I am not a kid!" Sam said, snapping at Caleb.

"Do _not _give me an attitude, Sam," Caleb warned. "I did not do this, I did not tell you to go and watch while _your _friends broke into a car."

"I said I was sorry!"

"And sometimes, Sam," Jim said, "that's not enough. Sometimes an apology can suffice, but not in this situation it can't."

Deciding he had had enough with that conversation, Sam sprang up from the couch as he went over to the phone.

"Sam, who are you calling?" Caleb asked, calmly.

"Dean. Or is that not allowed?" he asked bitingly.

"Sam, even if you leave this house," Jim said, "you are still grounded."

"Not if I'm with Dean. He can't punish me."

"Sam," Caleb said, "he's not even here. He's on a job right now."

"Where?"

"A few towns over."

"I need to go," Sam said, as he punched in the number for Dean's phone. "He'll come and get me and get me out of this hellhole."

"Sam, you need to calm down," Jim said. "This is not our fault, so don't pin this on us."

"I didn't do anything!" Sam yelled. "You two won't listen to me."

"Right now," Caleb said, "we are watching you scream at us for no reason. You need to calm yourself before you make it worse on yourself."

"How could it _possibly _get worse?" Sam said.

"You need to go upstairs," Jim said calmly, "and you need to distance yourself right now, before you do or say something you'll regret."

"I don't want to be here," Sam said, as he moved toward the stairs. "I want Dean to come and get me!"

Caleb and Jim ignored him, and seconds later, they heard the door slam.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dean's First Werewolf Hunt (part 1)**

_1996_

For years, ever since he had first started training and accompanying Caleb on hunts, Dean had been angling for bigger game, for a monster besides the usual poltergeists and spirits.

Anything else required further training and dedication on his part, but that was no issue for him. His mind, already centralized on the hunt, took on the challenge as easily as learning to tie shoes.

Finally, something had come across their radar. Something that, at sixteen, Caleb finally thought he was ready to take on.

A lycanthrope.

A deadly killing machine with the bite to turn any unfortunate soul into its own.

Hollywood hadn't done these monsters any favors, making them out to be cuddly and cute when the reality was far worse.

A werewolf was what they were called now, in modern times. Their origins unknown, the legends surrounding them, endless.

Dean had certainly heard of them before from the times his guardians had hunted them down, but he had never been lucky enough to get close to one in person before.

Until now.

A new one had sprung up in the mountain peaks surrounding Colorado, where a slew of hikers and mountaineers had been found brutally mauled, their hearts missing from their chests.

Classic signs of a werewolf problem.

And with lunar cycle just right, the evidence was overwhelming.

Dean had assisted Caleb in conducting the research, but didn't know if he would be allowed to ride along with him, and help in getting rid of the beast.

"You think you're ready for this?" Caleb asked, as Dean followed him down in the basement to retrieve his hunting things that he kept down there.

"Seriously?" Dean asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Seriously," Caleb confirmed. "But you think you're ready to tackle this?"

Dean nodded without thinking. "Yes."

For years, he had longed to be entrusted with the task of assisting in something other than salt and burns and other spirit hunts.

To be allowed to help with a werewolf, was a dream come true.

"Okay," Caleb said, "then grab your stuff and meet me out in the car."

Dean didn't need to be told twice as he gathered the things he would need for the road trip. He was done packing in only minutes, such was his excitement at being allowed this once in a lifetime hunt.

"So you think we'll still be able to catch it when we get there?" Dean asked, as he shone his flashlight on the information they had obtained.

The sun had long since gone down, and now they were actively seeking out a place to catch some shut eye before completing the rest of the journey in the morning.

"Should be," Caleb shrugged. "Once they target an area, they like to stick with it."

"Oh, well, that makes our job a hell of a lot easier."

Caleb grinned, before nodding. "Yes, yes it does. Want to stop here?"

"Sure."

With the downtime they had before they had to set off again in the morning, Caleb used that precious time to set up his research, which included carefully written notes and emails that had passed back and forth between he and his various contacts.

"This is different," Caleb murmured to himself, as he looked at the police database and their profiles of the victims.

"What is?" Dean asked, as he joined him at the dining table that now doubled as a desk.

"These vics. They're all female, early to mid twenties. Usually these monsters don't care who they kill, as long as they kill."

"Now there's a pattern?"

Caleb nodded, absently twisting his wedding ring around his finger as he clicked through some more of the records, before shifting to the gruesome autopsy reports.

"There's no official cause of death."

"Yeah," Dean said with a smirk. "How do you explain someone's heart being shoved from their chest?"

"You can't. Not logically, anyway."

"What's with the pattern?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I've never heard of a werewolf having a preference before. Do me a favor, and call up the morgue here, ask them for the girl's IDs, and for family information."

"You got it."

"What did they say?" Caleb asked, once Dean had gotten off the phone with the morgue.

"They said that the girls, like the information stated, were all hikers in the area. One, Jessica Cone, 25, her family reported her missing, found her dead three days later."

"Any relation between the girls?" 

"Not that I can tell. Another girl, Amber Walker, 24, was working at her family's ski lodge and disappeared."

"So what's driving this thing?"

"Could be anything, really." 

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Let's continue this in the morning, alright? We want to be at our peak when we go after this thing."

"Okay."


	7. Chapter 7

**Dean's First Werewolf Hunt (part 2)**

The next morning was an early wakeup call. Having not slept the previous night, Dean was definitely dragging the next day, as he followed Caleb to the point where the girls had disappeared from.

The lodge where they had vanished from, had formed a base of operations near the bottom of the mountain, and was in full swing when they got there, hoping to avoid another tragedy.

If only they knew what they were even dealing with.

"Stay back while I talk to the front desk," Caleb instructed.

At only seventeen, Dean was a little too young still to be able to pass off as being older than he really was. Most of his work still laid behind the scenes, as he assisted in whatever capacity he could.

While he waited, he used the spare time to check up on Sam back home in Minnesota, even though he knew his kid brother was fine, and having the time of his life practicing for his upcoming soccer tournament.

"So what did they say?" Dean asked, when Caleb had returned.

"Well, the dude gave us some names to work on, and said that most of these girls, they were from around here, they frequented this place." 

"Right, so the beast just picked them off one by one as soon as they stepped outside?"

"Could be. Or it could be an inside job."

Either way, it was bad. The lycanthrope of modern times, assumed the form of a regular human in the daylight, only morphing into its true form at the full moon.

"It could be any one of these people," Dean said, shaking his head, as he looked around at all the bereaved groups of people huddled together.

"I know."

At night, they knew it was time to act. Loading their guns with silver bullets they had made themselves, Caleb and Dean made their way back to the lodge, which by now, had shut down business for the night.

It was the perfect time to do it. Maximum privacy, and a higher chance of the beast coming out to play.

Dean, on the other hand, was nervous. His previous excitement had given way to nervous jitters as he nervously paced around the confined motel space, as he watched Caleb gather the supplies they needed in order to insure their victory.

"You doing okay?" Caleb asked, as he concealed his gun in the waistband of his jeans.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, copying Caleb's movements as he got his jacket on. "You ready?"

"I am."

The lodge was predictably darkened, as well as the surrounding area as they shone their flashlights around the area.

It was silent; almost _too _silent as Dean blew out a puff of white steam from the cold.

"If you see anything, shoot," Caleb said from behind him. "It doesn't have to be a direct hit to the heart, as long as its injured."

"Okay."

Of course, Dean wanted to get the winning shot the first try. Having a near-hit would be far too discouraging for him, especially with how much he had invested in the hunt, and how much he had been looking foreword to it.

When the twosome heard a pair of silent footsteps behind them, Dean didn't hesitate as he spun around and fired off two shots in quick succession.

The thing, whatever it was, had disappeared as fast as it had come on. "Did you see that?" Dean demanded, as he looked around with the limited lighting they had.

"No, but I heard it."

Shining his flashlight down, Caleb was able to highlight a pair of disorganized footprints that led away from the scene, and seemingly nowhere, though Caleb knew enough to know that was only a mind trick on the wolf's part.

"HELP! HELP!"

Springing into action at the sound of the terrified woman's voice, Caleb and Dean raced as fast as their legs would carry them, to the area where they had heard the heart pounding screams.

Just in time, too.

"Hey!" Dean yelled, when he saw the beast on top of the woman.

When it looked up, facing him, Dean didn't waste a second (or a bullet) as he fired a single shot. Directly to the heart.

Looking up at Caleb, he was rewarded when he saw the approving nod his guardian gave him.

"Good job, sport."


	8. Chapter 8

**Sam and Dean's First Camping Trip**

_1993_

Few things were as exciting as a child's (or teenager's) first camping trip. The endless possibilities for exploration and adventure, and the forced family time it encouraged.

For most families, this was a normal excursion they did whenever they could manage. Perhaps when the weather allowed, or on a nice weekend.

For others, these trips were rarity, something to enjoy when it happened for fear it might _not _happen again.

Such was the case for Caleb and Jim and the two boys they were raising. At ten and fourteen, they figured they were as mature as they would ever be to handle the enhanced challenges that came with something like that.

An open forested area, like the one they were traveling to, would be a prime target area for any monsters lurking the area.

It wasn't far from Caleb and Jim's minds, or Dean's, as they packed the routine provisions for the trip, as well as some weaponry that would aid them in a fight.

"Dean, where's my toothbrush?" Sam asked, peeking down the staircase as he watched his older brother pack his things.

"In the bathroom, second drawer," Dean recited automatically.

"Did you move it?" Sam asked, his eyes squinted together in suspicion like they normally did.

"_No_," Dean said with a scoff. "Just go get it."

"Fine."

For Sam, he didn't have to worry about the things his brother and guardians did. At ten, he knew a little of the supernatural world, but not enough to truly grasp how serious or dangerous it could be.

And that was how they intended it.

Sam had his whole life to train and be prepared for what could happen, but as long as he was under the protection of his family, they didn't see a reason to force him on it.

"Where's Sam?" Jim asked, as he came up from the basement, carrying the large bundles that would be their tents.

"Upstairs. He had to get some last minute stuff."

"Oh."

Setting the tent supplies down by the front door, Jim turned to Dean. "Are you excited?"

Dean nodded, allowing a small smile to grace his features. "I am, yeah."

For Dean, the camping trip promised to be fun, but he wasn't as excited as Sam was. In theory, he had already spent several camping trips when he had gone hunting with his guardians.

Sam had never done that before.

But Dean was excited to see the excitement light up his brother's face, and was excited mainly for the smores that the guys had promised.

"Ready!" Sam announced, trailed by Caleb, who had a small bag that Dean knew housed their weapons in case anything happened on the outing.

"Let's go, then," Jim said with a smile.

The campground was only a few miles from the house, but that didn't tamper their excitement. In fact, both Sam _and _Dean secretly felt better that they would still be close to home while enjoying the thrills and beauty of the outdoors.

"Dean," Caleb said, once they had spread out over their allotted space. "Do you want to help me set the tent up?"

"Sure," Dean said with a shrug.

With both of their brains working on it, they were able to assemble the tent in record time.

"Are we sharing a tent?" Sam asked, trading glances with Dean.

"One of you will share a tent with each of us," Caleb explained.

"Seriously?" Dean asked, arching one eyebrow. "I'm _fourteen_."

"And that honestly doesn't matter to any skinwalker or shapeshifter out there," Caleb shot back bluntly. "No arguing. Okay, dude?" He prompted, a small smile spreading across his face in the hopes of diffusing their disagreement.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean grumbled. "I'm sharing with you, though."

"Fine."

As the evening wore on, the guys eventually gathered the required firewood to make a lasting and warn fire. As promised, the smores came out, as well as the old-fashioned sticks for holders.

"Who wants to hear Jim's _horrible_ singing?" Caleb asked, hiding a laugh behind his bite of the smore.

"Uh, me!" Dean said.

"Two against one," Caleb pointed out, sharing a secretive smile with Dean, their earlier issue with each other over.

"Fine," Jim grumbled.

He launched into a short rendition of a classic campfire song, but stopped rather quickly when his embarrassment got the best of him.

When the fire had died down, the adults decided it was time to retire for the night.

"Sam," Jim said, sliding into his tent which was situated right next to Caleb and Dean's. "Come on."

"But I want to share with Dean," Sam whined.

"Sam!" Caleb said, not in the mood for anymore arguing. "In the tent. Now!"

"Fine," Sam said in a huff, as he went in with Jim.

"Whiner," Dean said with a shake of his head, as he settled in beside Caleb. "You don't snore, do you?"

"Not the last time I checked."

"Good," Dean said, rolling over onto his side. "Night.

"Good night, kiddo."


	9. Chapter 9

**Dean's First Poltergeist Hunt (part 1)**

_1994_

At only fifteen, Dean prided himself on being a near expert on all spirits that haunted different family's, not to mention the different _types _of spirits that could invade a poor family at any given time.

Some were personal; the ones that Dean was used to, the salt and burns types that inevitably ended with a family finally finding peace, and their lost loved one learning to let go.

The other ones, the ones that required more training and thinking, he wasn't familiar with. Malevolent spirits who existed in people's imaginations and in horror flicks, but were really _real_.

Poltergeists.

His family had all hunted them at different periods, even his father once. But he had never been allowed big game like that before, but now was a different story.

He was a little older, and a little more well-versed on the dangers associated with them, and how best to avoid them.

Finally, he was getting his opportunity. A small, local family had described thumps, bumps and scratches. All trademark signs of a poltergeist, and had requested help.

If only they knew the kind of "help" they would be receiving. Per Caleb's earlier request, the couple was _not _there when the twosome stepped foot inside.

"Don't forget," Caleb warned, "we can't actually kill this thing. Not with regular salt rounds, but we can use these hexbags to purify the place, get rid of it."

"And they actually _work_?"

Caleb nodded. "Seem to with everywhere else."

Looking around the main foyer, Caleb decided to start in the kitchen, which was to their immediate left.

"Alright," Caleb said, bending down to extract the hexbags from his stash of supplies. "Bang on the walls until you make a big enough hole to stick these things in."

Dean nodded obediently as he grabbed one. "Do these people have any idea what they're going to come home to?"

After all, they had left their home in one piece, and would now come back to find their walls torn open.

"I warned them that there might be some damage."

"Oh, well, good."

Caleb looked up, grinning. "Did you _actually _doubt my mad skills?"

"Not for a second."

With that, Dean turned and got to work on the wall closest to him. After a few good whacks with the hammer, he had made a big enough hole to put the hexbag in.

"Alright, good job," Caleb said, after his work had been inspected. "Now we move to the living room, and then upstairs."

"Alright."

While Caleb got to work on the far corners of the living room, Dean got to work on the foyer walls and downstairs bathroom.

If he had been paying closer attention, he would have seen what was coming.

"Damnit!" Dean swore, when a tube of toothpaste and a bar of soap rapidly collided with his head. "I think it knows we're in here."

"You okay?" Caleb asked, appearing in the bathroom doorway, no doubt having heard the commotion.

"Yeah, the poltergeist just whacked me in the head."

"Yeah, it almost tripped me with the lamp cord. You ready to go up?"

"You bet."

"Alright."

They were definitely more cautious as they carefully inspected the landing. They planted their hexbags quickly, and moved on as fast as they could.

"This is the bedroom where they have the most problems," Caleb said, as they turned into the master bedroom. "Bed shakes, unexplained noises, that sort of thing."

"Well, we just have to suck the life out of this thing, and we'll be good to go." 

Either the spirit had good timing, or could hear every word they spoke, because when Dean spoke those words, a serrated knife that had been lying on the nightstand, quivered, before launching itself directly at Dean.

"Son of a bitch," Dean swore, as he rapidly ducked to avoid near decapitation. "Damn."

"Be careful," Caleb said, having witnessed the entire thing.

"Yeah, no kidding, Sherlock."

As Dean rapidly made the holes in the wall, he tried to make it quick, knowing that the thing could be back at any second.

"Dean!"

It was too late. The second Dean turned around, the knife swooped back in, colliding painfully with his stomach.

At first Dean was in shock. That masked most of the pain as the knife came loose from the stab wound it had created.

"C-Caleb," Dean gasped, as he fell back to the ground, finding some relief when he laid back on his back. "Caleb."

"Dean," Caleb said, kneeling down beside him. "You're going to be alright. Breathe, okay? You have to breathe, okay?"

Dean nodded weakly, clenching his teeth shut to avoid screaming out in pain as hot tears of agony slipped from under his eyes.

Now that some of the shock was beginning to wear off, he could feel the almost burning pain in his abdomen, as he tried not to throw up.

"Okay, Dean, I have to cut your shirt off, okay?"

"I don't care."

Using medical scissors, Caleb was able to strip away the remaining fabric from him until he could properly assess the wound. Not being a paramedic or doctor, he couldn't see what damage had been done.

Using his hand, Caleb pressed down as hard as he could on the wound in order to create enough pressure until help arrived.

"It hurts," Dean moaned.

"I know, dude. I know," Caleb said, as he reached into his pocket and withdrew his cellphone.

Calling the ambulance was fraught full of risks. CPS (child protective services), would undoubtedly be called, and an investigation launched, but that was the least of Caleb's worries.

After he had gotten off the phone with them, he used his free hand (the one which wasn't applying pressure to Dean's stomach), and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Hang in there."

"I'm trying."

"They'll be here very soon."

Dean's face was becoming paler and paler by the second. "I feel so tired."

"Don't fall asleep," Caleb said firmly. "I mean it. Don't you dare fall asleep."

That would be a recipe for disaster, especially with the shock that was obviously settling in.

"I can't...I can't help it."

"Dean, focus on me, okay?" Caleb said, moving into his line of vision so he would have something tangible to focus on.

"I know, okay."

As Dean looked at him, Caleb kept the pressure on his stomach, as he continued to squeeze his hand.

"You're doing good, bud."

"I screwed up."

"No, you didn't. Not at all. We purified the house, that's the most important thing."

As Dean swallowed roughly, he tried to keep a lid on the pain, but it was nearly impossible as he felt his eyes water.

"How are you feeling?"

"Weak, so weak. And tired."

"Keep your eyes open," Caleb reminded him. "Don't forget that."

"I can't help it."

Seeing no other option, Caleb reached down and pinched him in the arm, anything to keep him alert.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Dean asked, but with none of the bite that his tone would normally have held.

"I had to, sorry."

Thankfully, the paramedics arrived seconds after that. Caleb stood back and watched as they loaded Dean onto the stretcher, before carefully getting him out of the house.


	10. Chapter 10

**Dean's First Poltergeist Hunt (part 2)**

Caleb tried to accompany Dean in the ambulance, but his request was shot down. Instead, he consoled himself with riding behind it in his car. Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he made the dreaded call to Jim to let him know what had happened.

By the time they reached the nearest hospital a few miles away, Caleb's nerves were frayed and his mind was racing with the possibilities of what could be happening in that ambulance.

When the paramedics unloaded him from the ambulance, he was able to get his first real glimpse of Dean since the accident, and it made his heart sink faster than a boulder.

He was unconscious, which Caleb supposed he should be grateful for, and he had been intubated, a sign of shock or the knife nicking something vital.

"You have to stay back, sir," the nurse warned when he tried to follow Dean through the trauma doors.

"No, no, you don't understand," Caleb tried to explain. "That's-"

"Please, take a seat," the nurse repeated, talking over him, "and someone will be out to talk to you shortly."

Giving her a withering look, he resigned himself to his fate and began leafing through a years old magazine that had been left collecting dust.

The print on the page before him, failed to give his mind sanctuary. Instead, he felt sick as he imagined what could be happening, what could be wrong with Dean, and what they were doing to him at that moment.

How could a hunt go so horribly wrong like that?

And what would the doctors (and more importantly, CPS) think? A child stabbing wasn't exactly considered a normal thing, and he shuddered to think what would happen if they decided to seriously pursue a case against him.

"Mr. Rivers?"

His head snapped up when a middle-aged doctor stepped out from behind those illusive doors that led back to the trauma center.

"I'm Dr. Robert Cane, I was called in to assist with Dean."

"Okay. How is he?"

"I don't want to lie to you, but he's far from out of the woods. We have to take him into the OR to correct damage sustained to his liver."

Caleb swallowed back convulsively. "What odds are we facing?"

After all, he had seen the dire straits that Dean had been in when they had first brought him in, and it had made him sick.

"Well, since he's so young and active, that weighs in his favor. His airway was obstructed by the shock, and the blood loss, but we have that under control."

"Okay."

"And you're his father?" the doctor asked, raising his eyebrow in curiosity.

"No," Caleb shook his head, "guardian."

"Okay, well we have to have you sign some permission slips stating that the hospital is not liable if anything were to happen."

That brought a pause out of Caleb, as he stared down at the forms he was being asked to sign.

"What do you mean by 'not liable'?"

"If he were to, God forbid, crash and pass away on the table, we would not be held liable for that death."

"And you are _certain _that you cannot fix this without surgery?"

"Yes. He _will _die if he does not have this operation."

Shaking his head at the mountainous decision he had to make, he signed the papers before he could second guess himself.

"Can I see him before you take him back?"

"Yes, but I have to warn you, he's not conscious."

Caleb nodded, he had been prepared for that already, as he followed the doctor back through those doors.

The doctor led him up to a surgical pediatric floor where they were prepping Dean for the operation.

"He's not in any pain," the doctor assured him, as Caleb walked up to Dean's side, and reached under the covers for his ice-cold hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Kick it in the ass, Dean," Caleb whispered to him, using a catchphrase that he and Dean often said to each other to egg each other on when they grew tired.

"The surgery shouldn't take longer than an hour if everything goes well," the doctor assured him when Caleb stepped back.

"Thank you."

Walking back out to the waiting room, he took a seat in his previously vacated place, and waited for Jim to arrive. He was busy finding a suitable sitter for Dean at the last minute.

Now that he had seen Dean with his own two eyes, he tried to feel better. He tried to have faith that he would survive the operation, and could recover.

"Mr. Rivers?"

His head popped up at the woman that now stood in front of her, as he stood to shake her hand.

"I'm Diane Ward, from child protective services."

* * *

_AN: The kick it in the ass line is from the brilliant and late Kim Manners, who was a much beloved producer on Supernatural. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Dean's First Poltergeist Hunt (part 3)**

Caleb had been expecting the visit from CPS. Perhaps not so soon, but he knew it would be coming, as he stared at the stern-faced woman before him, trying desperately not to lose his cool like he was sorely tempted to.

"What can I help you with?"

Even though he already knew what it was she was there for, and he hated it.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Dean?"

"Go ahead."

It wasn't like he had a choice anyway, and he wanted to get it over with.

"How did he sustain that type of stab injury?"

The woman certainly didn't beat around the bush, or hesitate in asking the difficult questions.

"It was an accident. He tripped, and the knife got him."

It was a weak lie, but the best he could come up with at such short notice. Her expression was so carefully controlled that he didn't know if she believed him or not.

"Okay, and you were the one who called the ambulance?"

"Yes."

"Was it your house?"

Caleb shook his head. "No, a friend. Dean and I were helping him remodel it, and that's when the accident happened."

"Was he home?"

"No, he's on a trip right now."

"Didn't want to be around for the renovation?"

"No, he has a young baby and didn't want her around all the fumes."

"Okay."

Caleb tried to relax, but it was nearly impossible as he tried to understand what the case worker was thinking, as she meticulously wrote her little notes down, as she continued to quiz him.

"When Dean first came in, there was some bruises that were documented. Were those from the same accident, or something else?"

"You know boys," Caleb said, trying to keep his tone even. "They like to roughhouse. He probably got them from messing around with his friends."

No way he would risk bringing Sam into the equation. As far as he knew, CPS didn't know that Sam existed, he would be safe as long as they continued to believe that.

"Okay. Well, thank you. Our office will call you if we decide to pursue this any further."

"Fine. Thank you."

Relieved that she was finally leaving, he sank back down on the chair as he glanced at the clock. It had been nearly an hour since Dean had first gone back for surgery, and while his doctor had assured him that it would take that long, it still didn't stop him from worrying.

"Mr. Rivers?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Dr. Paul, I performed the operation on Dean's liver."

"Okay. How did it go?" 

"Very well. We were able to stop the bleeding in his liver, and pack it up."

"Good," Caleb said, letting out a sigh of relief. "Is he awake?"

"Not yet, but just about."

"What's the recovery rate for something like this?"

"Honestly," the doctor said, "it depends on the person. For someone as young and healthy as he is, I wouldn't expect anything too long."

"Can I see him?"

"Sure."

Walking down the near-empty hallways, the doctor showed Caleb to the private recovery room where they had set Dean.

He was just barely regaining consciousness, but he glanced over at Caleb when he heard his heavy footsteps on the tiled floor.

"Hey," he croaked, his eyes still barely half-open.

"Hey to you," Caleb said, smiling softly as he pulled up a chair next to his bed.

"I'll leave you two," the doctor said.

Caleb was relieved for the privacy the doctor was giving he and Dean.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired," Dean said. "My throat hurts."

"Yeah, that's because they had to put a breathing tube down your throat."

"Oh."

"You're going to be okay."

Dean nodded, squinting in pain as he moved a little. "I don't feel like it."

"You will be. You just have to rest up."

"I know."

And Dean hated that. Being as active as he was, he couldn't imagine being forced to lay low and not indulge in the activities that he loved.

"What about school?" 

"We're going to keep you home until you're better."

"Sweet," Dean said with a smile.

At least there was that one small silver lining, that he got to miss a week or two of school because of the injury.

"You can go home in a few days, kiddo."

"Okay."


	12. Chapter 12

**Dean Goes Back**

_1989_

It had been years since he had last been in his house, but strangely he remembered almost everything about it. He remembered the creaky step on the bottom of the staircase, he remembered his bedroom.

The Spiderman and Superman theme in his bedroom, had been a particular favorite of his, especially the action figures he had carefully lined on the shelves his father had built for him.

But that had been many years ago.

His bedroom had been destroyed in the fire that had claimed his mother's life, and had fed his father's thirst for revenge.

Now, both of them were gone. Killed by the very things they hunted, and tried to protect their loved ones from.

It had been five years since his mother had died, and four since his father had gone, and somehow the pain had managed to lesson, but not entirely dissipate. He missed telling them things, he longed for the moments they could have had as family.

And he missed having them for Sam.

Sam had no memories of them, didn't know the smallest details except for what his new family recalled for him.

But no matter how much he longed for them, he swore to himself long ago that he would never venture back to that place, would never set foot in Lawrence again.

It was too painful.

Until Caleb brought something up to him that made him rethink his course of action. A developer had taken interest in the house, and had offered to restore it to its original splendor.

Construction wasn't due to start for several more weeks, and up until then, the house had remained a shameful reminder of what was, and what could never be again.

"Do you want to go back before they rebuild it?" Caleb asked one afternoon.

"I don't know."

He _did _want to see it, if only to properly say goodbye to his parents, and bid the past farewell once and for all.

"It's up to you," Caleb said gently.

Dean shrugged. "I guess."

And that was all the permission he needed to give. The trip to Lawrence was arranged for the following week, right before the renovation was scheduled to begin.

Dean looked out the window as they drove through the town limits. He barely remembered the town, and the places they used to frequent.

Flashes, nothing tangible to base his memories on, that was for sure.

When Caleb's car pulled into the homey little neighborhood, he felt his muscles tense up, as if they were on springs as his eyes automatically looked to the left, where he knew the ruins of his home would be.

"This is it," Caleb said quietly, as he put the car in park and turned it off. "Do you remember?"

Dean nodded, feeling tears spring behind his eyes as he got out of the car and slowly started walking foreword, to the front door where he had carried his little brother outside.

"Can we go in?"

"Of course we can."

Turning the melted doorhandle, he stepped foot into the foyer that immediately swerved into the living room. Nothing was there anymore, except ash and soot from the fire.

The staircase had caved in, allowing entry to the upper floors impossible, as he stared up there, imagining the direction his and Sam's bedrooms were in.

His was the first door on the right, followed by Sam's at the end of the hall.

His parent's bedroom had been in between theirs, creating the perfect atmosphere to be in two places at once if the need arose.

"I used to help my Mom carry Sam down the stairs," Dean recalled, as he stared at what remained of the the stairs.

"I bet he liked that."

"He thought the adventure of it all was funny," Dean said with a slow smile. "And then eventually, I ended up carrying him out of this place for real."

Caleb nodded.

John had confided in him the details about that night, how he had entrusted Dean with carrying baby Sammy out of the house.

"I bet you have a lot of good memories here."

"Sometimes. I used to help Mom make Sam his breakfast," he recalled, glancing into the kitchen. "Oatmeal and French Toast."

"Yum. Sounds like a feast to me."

"It was."

Walking back out to the main foyer of the house, he sighed as he looked around at the place one final time. Some memories were bad, most were good.

Instead of dwelling on the bad, he was determined to focus firmly on the good.

He had to.

Those memories of the house, were all he had.

The memories of his parents, were all he had now.

And was determined to keep their memories alive for his brother.

* * *

_AN: This is the final chapter of "These Unseen Moments." I sincerely hope you enjoyed them, and had a wonderful holiday! Next up is the final *sob* sequel that kind of ties everything up from "Through the Storm." I hope to see you there!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Taken (part 1)**

_1993_

Having a permanent home base in Minnesota, allowed Dean and Sam to experience normal things that a child would experience. They were afforded the opportunity to have friends, to have typical milestones for a pre-teen and teenager.

And they were able to go to school.

For Sam, nothing could be more fun than prancing through those doors and showing the teachers what he had to give. Jumping through the door with A report cards, was nothing new to the studious first grader.

Dean was a little more laid back about the concept of school. It was fun to be able to interact with his friends, and more importantly, see his girlfriend, but it was a nuisance most of the time when he would rather be at home doing something useful like training, or helping Caleb or Jim look out for cases.

But he accepted it as something he had to do, and he didn't fight it most of the time. School was a safe place, somewhere where he could could be free to learn and explore without fear of something happening.

How stupidly wrong he was.

Because something _always _happens eventually.

That was the rotten Winchester luck that always seemed to strike at the last possible minute, and in the most inopportune of times.

It happened on a regular, foggy afternoon as the last class of the day was let out. As was their rule, Jim arrived at the curb at three 'o clock sharp to pick him up.

"Dean," he said, talking to him through the open window. "Where's Sam?"

"I don't know. He didn't come out?"

Jim shook his head. "No, he didn't."

Dean frowned, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as he walked around the car and settled himself in the front seat. "Are you sure? Isn't he with his friends or something?"

"I don't know. I didn't see him, that's all I know."

"We have to go see, then."

Without waiting for further instruction, Dean hopped back out of the car and strode purposefully into the school, making a baleen for the front office, with Jim not far behind.

"Hi," Jim said, addressing the woman manning the front desk. "I was wondering if you've seen Sam Winchester here, today?"

"Oh," she said, looking through her files, calm as anything, which made Dean furious. "Yes. His science teacher took him out this afternoon."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you know where they went?"

"She mentioned something about taking him to her house. Why? Is...there a problem?"

Dean shook his head in astonishment. "I can't believe this."

Not only had a teacher waltzed in and took Sam from his class, but she had done it without the consent of Jim or Caleb, which upped the ante considerably.

Anything could be happening.

Demonic possession.

Or just plain stupidity.

Dean hoped it was the latter. The thought of a demon getting its filthy hands on his brother, was positively revolting as he resorted to a vice that always aided him in times of stress.

Pacing.

It helped him think; it helped him formulate a plan of action that didn't include strangling whoever had let the teacher walk out of the school with Sam.

"Call Caleb," Jim instructed, handing him the school phone. "Tell him we need him right now."

Dean nodded as he shakily took the phone from his guardian, and dialed first the number of Caleb's work. When he was informed that Caleb was _not _there, he hung up and dialed their home number.

_Hello?_

"Caleb," Dean sighed in relief, hearing his reassuring voice. "Jim and I are still at the school. Sam's not here, someone let his science teacher take him out. No one can find them now."

There was a definite pause on the other end of the line before Caleb spoke again. _Who let them go?_

Dean relayed Caleb's question, before getting back on the phone. "The principle."

_I'm on my way._

Relieved, Dean hung the phone up.

"Should he not have let them go?" the woman at the desk asked.

Dean shook his head, resisting the urge to throttle whoever had let Sam out of their sights, and without their permission.

"Can we talk to the principle?" Jim asked.

"Of course."

Following the woman down the hall and to the principle's marked office, the woman opened the door to the darkened room, turned on the lights and screamed.

Roughly shoving her aside, Dean entered the room ahead of her, and saw to his horror, that his principle was dead. Throat slashed, eyes wide and unseeing, bound and gagged to his office chair.

"I have to call the police," the woman said, stumbling backward as she reached her phone set. "Report a m-murder and a missing child."

"Report the murder, not Sam's disappearance," Jim said.

For all he knew, the teacher responsible for taking Sam, had been demonically possessed, and no way would that demon be a physical match for the cops who tried to overpower it.

"But-"

"Just do it!" Dean said through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for anymore games when he knew that every wasted second, was time that the demon could be moving further and further away from them.

While the woman made the call to the police, Jim took Dean aside, by the exit to the office. "You didn't see anything at all?"

Dean shook his head. "No. We have classes at different times, and someone must have gotten him between those times."

"Right. Well, right now, what we need to do is be calm. We have an idea of where he is, and that's the most important thing."

"Yeah, I know."

It was hard to sit back and be patient while his brother was out there, with who knows who, and any number of things could be happening to him. It was definitely a terrifying position to be in.

When Caleb walked through the door, Dean breathed another sigh of relief. At least he had his guardians, his family, under one roof and they could refocus their search efforts for Sam.

"What have you got so far?" Caleb asked Jim.

"Nothing, except the principle authorized it, and now he's dead."

"Whoever took Sam."

Dean nodded quietly. "Yeah."

Feeling like he might be sick from the pressure and the very real fear of losing his brother, Dean chose to take a seat one of the hard, plastic chairs in the office.

"Hey, kiddo," Caleb said softly, as he bent down in front of him. "You doing okay?"

Dean shook his head. "I should have been there to protect him."

He had done a pretty good job of it before this, and he couldn't believe that he had failed his brother when he needed him most.

"You didn't know, Dean. None of us could have predicted that something would happen at this school. You didn't fail him, you didn't know you had anything to protect him _from_."

Dean nodded. "I know you're right, but I just can't stop this feeling that I could have done something, anything."

Caleb nodded understandingly. "You need to attack those feelings. You need to tell yourself that you would have done something if you had been there, and you need to tell yourself that you are an amazing big brother to that kid, and he adores you because of it."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Come on, we're going to go poke around the classroom where he was taken, okay? Let's see if we find anything."

"Yeah, okay."

It would certainly be better than sitting there and envisioning all the things that could be going wrong in that instant.

It wasn't a long walk to the science classroom, Sam's favorite place to be.

"Okay," Caleb said, "you know what to look for?"

Dean nodded, grateful for the distraction that Caleb was giving him.

"I found something," Dean said.

"Let me see."

Caleb looked where Dean was pointing at the chalkboard, and felt his heart sink. "Yeah, that's sulfur."

There was absolutely no doubt now. Sam had been taken by a demon.

And for all they knew, it could very well be the demon responsible for his mother's death.

* * *

_AN: I still have some ideas for this one-shot series. So even though this story is, officially complete, if an idea strikes me, I'll post it. _

_This idea is based off of a journal entry that John wrote about a teacher of Sam's being possessed by a demon, and taking him. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Taken (part 2)**

In order to avoid possible interrogation by the police and crime scene investigators who had already converged on the scene, Jim, Caleb and Dean made a swift exit for the doors, preferring to conduct their own investigation in the privacy and security of their own home.

The entire car ride home was spent in silence, as Dean stared out at the gloomy, cloudy sky. He could dimly hear Jim and Caleb discussing details of the search for his brother, but he tried to tune out as much of it as he could.

Instead, he tried to envision when they would find him. When they would be able to get him home safely, preferably unharmed.

When he felt a gentle pressure on his knee, he looked up.

"We're home, "Caleb said gently. "You ready to go in?" 

Dean nodded, as he slid out the backseat, and into the cool air conditioned house. The kitchen was their unofficial meeting place, and their base of operations when a catastrophe was in the making.

"What do we know?" Caleb asked, as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Sam's science teacher was possessed," Jim said, sighing heavily as he wrote the information down in a little booklet he had. "Either the same one who's in league with the one responsible for what happened in his nursery, or something separate altogether."

"I found sulfur in the science class," Caleb said, walking foreword to lay the specimen he had collected, on the table. "Not significant, but enough."

"So we know it's demonic."

Caleb nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly.

It was terrifying for them that Sam wasn't there. He was the youngest, the one they actively sought to protect from the evils of this world, and now it had claimed him anyway.

It was all too much for Dean, who sought to distance himself from the intensely stressful situation, as he moved from the kitchen to the living room, situating himself on the sofa, where he could feel his breaths coming out in gasps, as he tried not to panic.

It was impossible.

A demon was as scary and horrifying as it got, as he tried not to look at it like that.

"Hey," Caleb said, a few minutes later, as he came and took a seat beside him. "How are you holding up?"

"How do you think?"

"Good point, kiddo," Caleb said, squeezing his knee reassuringly. "What I think we should do right now, is you get you and I a soda from the fridge, and then you can help me track down some names. Sound good?"

Dean nodded, sniffling back those irksome tears as he pushed himself off the couch.

Caleb knew soda was his favorite beverage, and he also knew that Dean would never pass up an opportunity to help in whatever capacity he could.

When Dean met Caleb in the kitchen with the sodas, Caleb laid a phonebook down in front of him. "Do you know the name of the teacher that has him?"

"You mean the one who's meat suit is being used for a demon? Yeah," Dean said, as he flipped through the pages. "I had her once. Her name is Judy Landon."

"Okay, see if you can find her in there." 

Dean nodded, as his eyes expertly scanned the names that were all blaring down at him in those pages. It was hard to pinpoint one name in a list of thousands, but he did his best as he narrowed his eyes

"There."

"Right there?"

Dean nodded. "Yes."

"Okay. We can find it from there."

"What comes next?"

"We got get him back."

Caleb already had the exorcism ritual memorized, and all they needed was to catch the demon off guard, and retrieve the precocious ten-year-old.

"Can I come?"

Caleb shook his head. "No, you need to stay here where you'll be safe."

"Anywhere you guys are is safe," Dean pointed out.

"I know, but right now, we need to solely focus on getting Sam back. We can't worry about something happening to you, either."

"Fine."

When Caleb worded it like that, it made sense. He didn't want to distract them from their mission, and have their actions be more cautious if he was around for it.

"Make sure you lay a line of salt down when we leave."

"I know. I will."

Dean counted. It had been almost two hours since Caleb and Jim had left on their mission. But this mission was unlike any they had ever had before. Their mission was getting his brother back home safely.

To distract himself, Dean tried many different tasks before finally turning on his dusty video game console, and tried losing himself in a mindless, easy game of Mario.

When the door to the garage finally opened, he threw the controller down as he raced into the kitchen.

Sam was there.

Alive and in the flesh.

And unharmed.

Confused, but far from being traumatized or upset, as he grinned a toothy grin as he embraced his brother.

"Hi, Dean!"

"Hey, Sammy."

His relief was beyond words as he looked up at the guys. They simply smiled and shook their heads, a promise of a play by play later, when Sam was in bed.

Everything was alright.


	15. Chapter 15

**Dean's First Kiss**

_1994_

At fifteen, Dean was as much of a hellraiser as his late father, John used to be. Especially with the ladies that he saw routinely in his school. For the most part, he tried to remain respectful, treating them the way Jim coached him to, reminding him to respect their feelings, and not use them for his own conquests.

He had strongly heeded that warning.

Not wanting to be viewed in a negative light in the town, and have it reflect badly on his guardians who were also residents of the town.

While he used to play the field, test out his feelings for different girls, that had all changed when he met Kristen.

A year ahead of him in school, she was a cheerleader (his favorite type), and smart, funny and athletic.

It wasn't often that someone could match him in both humor _and _prowess, and he liked it. Most men would be intimidated by that sort of thing, but he thought of it as a turn on more than anything.

He was grateful that Caleb and Jim allowed him to go out on outings with her, that they trusted him not to screw up with her.

For the most part, they kept it local. Pizza parlors, even the occasional movie when Dean could muster up enough money to cover both of their tickets.

And a vat of buttery popcorn to share, of course.

Tonight, though, she was dragging him to the town fair. It was an annual happening in their town, where all the locals came out dressed in their best, as they indulged in cotton candy, amusement rides, and other silly activities.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, as she gripped his warm hand.

"Absolutely."

"You don't seem too excited," she remarked, as her face fell a little.

"I am, believe me."

Eyeing the cotton candy, he made a baleen to the stand, as he bought some for he and she.

"You want to ride the ferris wheel?" 

"Um, what?"

Heights had never been his kind of thing. Mostly, he tried to steer clear of them as much as possible.

"The ferris wheel," she prompted.

"Um, sure," he said, forcing a smile on his face, although he was sure it came out as more of a grimace than anything else.

Paying for their ride, he allowed her to go in first, as he hesitantly settled himself in the seat. The rocking motion of the cab, scared him, but he sucked in a deep breath as he tried to endure it for her.

"It's not so bad, is it?"

Dean shook his head. "Naw, no. Once you get used to the terrifying, squeal like a big heights."

Giggling, she leaned closer to him, as she laid her head on his shoulder. "I really do like you."

"Feelings mutual."

Everything about her was this side of perfection. Her grace, much like his mother's, her looks, and her personality.

Almost on instinct, he leaned toward her. She didn't pull away or hesitate at all, as she closed the remaining few inches between them.

Her lips were soft, not cracked or dry. A product, no doubt, of the lip gloss she had smothered on there, right before coming.

His hand instinctively found its way around her neck, as he pulled her closer to him.

It wasn't a perfect kiss, but the setting couldn't have been more surreal and perfect. On top of the ferris wheel, at nighttime when the stars and moon were performing at their absolute peak.

He, Dean Winchester, had just experienced his first kiss.


	16. Chapter 16

**Dean's Nightmares**

_1989_

Children had nightmares. The boogey man and other demons of lore that routinely haunted children in their dreams. Most were innocent, a product of too much imagination, and overexcitement.

Other kids, the ones who have had things happen to them in the past, experience the kind of vivid nightmare that they wouldn't soon forget.

Almost anything can subconsciously trigger a nightmare.

A death.

Something emotionally damaging.

A flicker of negative energy.

Anything in the back of the mind that can't be reached in the dawn, awaking hours.

For most kids, they experienced them, and moved on. Most kids didn't have anything solidly morbid to fall back on, to rethink over and over again.

Most kids didn't have the life experiences that Dean Winchester had.

At four, he had been awakened by the sound of his mother's spine-chilling screams, and felt the incredible heat as his brother's nursery burst into flames.

After that, he had been forced to move around the United States with his father, who was trying to avenge his mother's death, and find the creature responsible for the brutal murder.

At five, he had been thrown into a perpetual state of confusion when his father had failed to return to Blue Earth, Minnesota to retrieve he and his brother, Sam.

For awhile, he thought his father had simply abandoned he and his brother in his quest for revenge, but when Jim and Caleb had told him the truth, that his father was dead, it had all made sense.

While he was relieved to know his father hadn't actually abandoned him, it still didn't make him feel any better that he had lost both of his parents in the span of less than a year.

After his father died, he started having the nightmares off and on for at least five years.

The dreams weren't in any particular order, but they all dealt with the same theme: death, especially his parent's.

While he hadn't been present for his father's passing, he remembered still the night his mother had perished, and he remembered the haunted look in his father's eyes, the way he clutched he and his brother like they were the last pieces of Mary he had left.

He dreamed of the nursery, how it burst into flames.

The dreams, sometimes, would propel him into a state of confused consciousness, wondering where he was and how he had gotten there.

One night, it was like that, like the dream was actually happening in real time, and it was reality again.

"Dean!" Caleb said, running into the room at the sound of the ten-year-old's whimpers. "Dean, wake up," he said gently, shaking his shoulder as he tried to spark some sign of life in the child.

"Where am I? Where's the fire," Dean panted, as he stared wide-eyed around his room.

The things in it should have earned him some recognition, but all he felt was the same untamed fear, as he looked at Caleb.

"You're in your room," Caleb reminded him gently, as he sat on the edge of Dean's bed. "There isn't a fire, not now."

"But I saw it. It was all over the place."

"I think you were having a nightmare. It happens to the best of us, but especially to the ones who have had a particularly bad time."

Dean nodded, sucking in a deep breath as he laid back against his sweat-dripped pillows. It made sense, what Caleb was telling him.

"I'm not in the fire?"

"You're not," Caleb confirmed.

"Sammy, is he okay?"

After all, the fire hadn't originated in _his _nursery, but in his little brother's.

"He is. Sound asleep last time I checked."

"Can I go and make sure?"

"Sure you can."

It would make him feel better, knowing his little brother was really safe, and what he had experienced, was really a nightmare.

Walking down the hall toward his brother's bedroom, he paused before pushing the door open slowly, quietly, so he wouldn't wake him.

To his relief, his baby brother was sound asleep.

"Thanks," he said, turning to Caleb who was standing behind him.

"I didn't do anything," he said with a small smile.

"Yeah, you did."


	17. Chapter 17

**Bloodletting (part 1)**

_1993_

The small town of Fairmont, Minnesota, near Blue Earth, was considered to be safe. The residents had all either grown up together, or knew of one another through their parental connections.

Even the janitor and the ice cream man knew each other. Small towns like that, people felt safe. They felt as if they could loosen the leash on their children, and let them experience the kind of freedom that most others in big cities would cringe at.

To them, it was no problem to send their children off to the movies with friends, never alone, and let them have a chance to prove how responsible they were becoming.

No one saw the need to worry when people were _always _watching.

To others, like Jim Murphy, their carelessness was disturbing. He knew what most others didn't, that there existed a world far beyond any of their imaginations, and their children weren't safe.

Not if a spirit or demon decided they were fair game.

Jim believed in allowing Sam and Dean to have freedom, but safely.

Daylight was the only time they were allowed to be outside, or anywhere without the supervision of himself or Caleb.

That was why he agreed that Dean could go see a movie with his friends, provided that he be home by the designated curfew time of eight 'o clock on winter nights, when the town darkened considerably early.

Dean had had no problem agreeing to the rule. He was just excited that he got to hang out with a group of his friends. It had been awhile since he had had the chance, and he was eager to see them.

The movie had been great. A cheesy horror flick that had him chuckling at how far-fetched and just plain _wrong _the creators of the movie were

"That was good," his one friend shrugged.

"Yeah, if you like a kid movie," his other friend said with a chuckle.

"I have to agree," Dean said, as they walked across the near empty parking lot.

The sun had fallen already, and he knew that Jim would be worried about him if he didn't hurry up.

"We'll catch you later?" his friends said, when they reached a crossroads.

"Yeah," Dean said, smiling. "See ya."

As he walked, he quickened his pace as he pulled his hood up close around his body. Nighttime walking always made him nervous, and he knew he would be relieved to arrive back home safely.

"Excuse me."

He turned around sharply, caught off guard by the small female voice behind him.

"Hi," Dean said, turning to face her. "Can I help you with something?"

She was small, about his age from the looks of it.

"Yes," she said, as she drew out a shaky breath. "I got separated from my family, and I don't know where they went."

"Do you know where your house is?" Dean asked, feeling increasingly uneasy as he stood a safe distance from her.

"I do, but it's a long walk from here."

"Where did you last see your family?"

"Down there," she said, pointing a finger in the direction of a small shopping plaza. "But it was awhile ago."

Dean sighed, clearly conflicted about needing to make his curfew time, and wanting to help out a girl who was obviously in need.

"Okay, I'll help you find them, but then I have to leave."

"Thank you."

They soon fell into step with each other as they walked side by side. As they walked, Dean glanced curiously at the side of her face.

"Did you cut yourself?"

"Yeah," she said with a scoff. "Can you believe it?"

"How did it happen?"

"Some idiot clocked me."

"Oh."

They were nearing the shopping plaza where the girl claimed her family had disappeared to. Eyeing her curiously, Dean stopped as he stared around the empty parking lot.

"What did you say your name was again?"

She hadn't given him a name.

Most girls jumped at the chance to introduce themselves to him.

"Megan."

"Megan, where's your family?"

Something wasn't right, and he knew it. He felt his blood run cold when she smiled at him, as he instinctively reached into his pocket for a weapon, only to realize that he hadn't packed any wit him.

"Behind you."

Spinning around, he caught a split second view of a cold, sneering face before he was knocked out.

It took him awhile to become fully conscious again. The knock to his head had ensured his unwilling slumber for a long time to come.

Once he was aware again, he could feel a pounding ache in his head, as he automatically started to raise a hand to feel it, only to realize that he couldn't.

Feeling panic rapidly set in, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back with thick rope. Struggling to breathe correctly, he pulled against his restraints as hard as he could to no avail.

Feeling hot tears of anger begin to feel their way out of his eyes, he fought against it as he clenched his eyes shut. Appearing weak wouldn't help his cause, it would only worsen it.

Who were those people that had taken him?

Were they even people?

Continuing his fight to get himself free, he noticed that he was in a barn of some kind, or a shack. It was mostly dark, except for the artificial light in the distance.

When he strained his eyes more, he could make out several human-size cages that had been build into the wall itself. Holding them together was a complicated lock system, and he wondered why he hadn't been put there, why he wasn't in there with whoever else was.

Feeling his heart begin to race uncontrollably, he tried to stifle a scream.

His wrists were beginning to ache due to the pressure he was putting on them to get free. He knew he could get free if he could find something with which to cut them with, but there was nothing that he could reach easily.

When the barn door suddenly burst open, he cringed.

Walking inside, was the same girl that had lead him into the trap.

"Well," he said, "I hope you're happy with yourself."

"I am."

Chuckling sardonically, he shook his head. "You know, if you wanted a date with me, you didn't have to go all this trouble."

"Funny."

He wasn't joking; not at all.

He was terrified, and he was using his sense of humor to hide that fact from her.

"What about your family? Huh?"

"A ruse to get you where we wanted you."

"What are you?"

"That's not very polite," she said with a growl, as she raised her hand and backhanded him across the face.

"Funny, I don't _care_!"

"Oh, you will-"

"Morgan!" A sharp voice from behind them shouted. "Leave him alone. Don't argue with our prey."

Prey?

Renewing his efforts to free himself, he stared into the face of the man who had knocked him out.

"What do you want?" he asked.

No monsters or people ever took someone without needing them for something.

"Nothing personal," he assured him, "just how we survive."

"How you what-"

His question was answered when the male peeled back his shirt, exposing his neck, and to Dean's absolute horror, the man's teeth were replaced by fangs, as he bit into Dean's neck.

They felt like needles as they pierced into his skin.

He would have screamed if he hadn't been petrified with fear, as he struggled against them.

"His blood is fresh," the male said, wiping his mouth casually with the sleeve of his shirt.

"He's young," Morgan said, "that's why I picked him."

"Good call. Most of them have drugs or alcohol in their system nowadays."

Still reeling from the blood loss, he struggled to stay awake as he focused his gaze on them.

"You freaks are vampires?"

He had never heard of such a thing. To his knowledge, they were the one thing that didn't actually exist. Of course, now that he thought about it, every other mythological creature existed.

Why not vampires?

"I find that term racist."


	18. Chapter 18

**Bloodletting (part 2)**

"My family's going to find you," Dean panted. "They'll kill you. They'll kill you _all_."

Dean had lost track of time. He had no idea how long he had been held captive in the barn with the vampires, only that it was still nighttime, and his family would be no doubt be tearing up the town trying to find him.

His body was exhausted from trying to work its way through the bonds around his wrists. He could feel the ropes begin to cut into his wrists, but that didn't stop him from continuing his efforts.

One thing that his guardians had always taught him, was to recognize when a fight was lost, and he didn't feel that way yet. There was still enough fight left in him, to work for it with all his might.

The vampires chuckled, obviously thinking his efforts were in vain.

"If they do find us," the girl, Morgan said, "we'll end them."

"But not before they watch us kill you first," the male vampire said.

Dean turned his head away from him, the only part of his body that he could still move, as he licked his cracked and bleeding lips with his tongue.

It had been hours since his last drink, and his body was definitely reacting to it. He swallowed thickly against the dry ache in the back of his throat, as he stared at the vampires intent on keeping him hostage.

He refused to ask them for any water. He refused to ask those monsters for anything. He would rather sit and suffer than allow them to know he was hurting.

"Who else have you captured?" Dean asked, surprised at how cracked his voice was.

"Too many to name, some of them younger than even you," Morgan said, trailing a slender finger down the length of his cheek.

He roughly turned away from her.

The touch disgusted him, and he wished he could sink himself into a cold shower to rid himself of the taint he felt.

What he wanted more than anything, were for his guardians to come. He wanted them to find him, wherever he was, and take him home.

It was astonishing to him, all the things he took for granted. A warm bed, food, and love and companionship.

He even missed the constant teasing and bugging that Sam subjected him to. He would gladly accept that, if it meant that he could get out of there.

The fact was, he was powerless against them, and that terrified him.

"You should be grateful," the male vampire said, bending down in front of him.

"And why is that?"

"Sometimes, we just can't hold our thirst in. Sometimes, we just kill right when we see our victim. See, this way, we'll give your family a chance to find you, and then we'll have double the amount of food."

Or blood.

It made Dean sick, but it made him even more furious, as he spit in the vampire's face.

That clearly didn't go off too well with him, but he reigned in his anger the best he could, as he stood up.

"Keep it up, you'll find yourself gagged."

"Go ahead!"

Dean knew he was tempting fate by engaging them, but he was furious that he was in this predicament, and he was reacting the only way that felt natural to him.

His wrists were freely bleeding now over the rope, and he finally stopped his efforts to get free. If he continued, he knew that he would risk even further problems.

As it was, the ropes that he had been tied with, were dirty. Any amount of infection could be trickling into his bloodstream from the open gash on his wrist.

Cursing himself for making the situation worse, he tried to stay quiet as he watched their movements. Because it was nighttime, their movements were always frenzied, always excited.

A few of them left, no doubt going out to hunt for more prey to bring back to torture. A few, including the man and girl, stayed behind.

Dean didn't care. He was scared, and he was struggling to stay calm. A part of him didn't know if he would make it our or not, he was still light headed from the blood loss he had experienced, and the vampires he knew would come back for more.

"You know," the male vamp said, sighing in frustration. "You people make it so difficult for us to coexist."

"I wonder why."

"We have a right to live, too!" Morgan said, wringing her hands in frustration.

"Like hell you do. You're a monster. You both are."

That seemed to infuriate them even more. This time when Morgan leapt foreword, the man didn't stop her, as she roughly fed on him.

This time Dean couldn't hold back a yelp of pain, as he struggled to break free, injuring his wrists even further, but it was knee-jerk reaction that he was powerless to shake.

"Leave me alone," he pleaded.

As if it was possible, he felt even more depleted than last time. He was actively showing signs of dehydration, and the increased blood loss did nothing to help him.

"No, because we don't have to."

"Fine, don't, I don't care anymore," he said tiredly. "I just want this to be over. So if you're going to kill me, do it."

Even though his adrenaline was almost painful, the exhaustion he was showing, contradicted that. It was a sign of dehydration, that and the excessive thirst he was experiencing.

He had never been in such a life and death matter, and he didn't know how to respond. Even though he had trained for any number of situations, this had never been a part of it.

"You brought this on yourself," Morgan said, "you and whoever else hunts us."

Dean shook his head as tears of pain and tiredness leaked out of the corners of his eyes. He was beginning to lose feeling in his wrists, and he knew that wasn't a good sign, not at all.

Either it was because the ropes were too tight, and he was beginning to lose circulation, or he was bleeding too profusely.

Thankfully, he was saved the task of responding, when the barn doors were thrown open again. The group that had left, had returned.

And to his relief, the sun was just beginning to reach its peak, signaling their time to sleep. It was hard to believe, but he had been there overnight.

As he licked his dry lips, he tried to swallow, but his throat was so sore from the lack of nourishment, that it made it difficult.

Unless a miracle happened, he was convinced that he would meet his end in that barn. It was all looking so hopeless that he wanted to curl into a ball, and cry, but he couldn't.

Resigning himself to his fate, he leaned back and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible.

When the barn doors slid open again, he tensed, wondering if there was a new pack of vampires that he hadn't met yet.

When he saw a pair of familiar boots, he automatically relaxed.

A miracle _had _happened.

It was Caleb and Jim.


	19. Chapter 19

**Bloodletting (part 3)**

Dean had never felt so relieved than when he saw Jim and Caleb step foot inside the barn. The temptation to call out to them, alert them to where he was, was great, but he resisted it. The last thing he wanted was to alert the vampires to their presence.

As it was, they were all asleep. None of them moved an inch, even as his guardians ventured deeper and deeper into the barn.

Trying to ignore the burning pain in his wrists, Dean kept his eyes trained on his family. He knew they would find him, but he wasn't sure when, and he wasn't sure if it would be too late by the time they _did _locate him.

"Dean."

He looked up when Caleb crouched down in front of him. Dean noticed that he had a machete with him, for security.

"Caleb," he whispered.

His throat was so sore from the lack of nourishment, that talking was difficult for him, as he studied the seasoned hunter.

"Are you alright?"

Dean shook his head, a single tear sliding down his face. "No, my wrists, they're hurt bad."

"Okay."

Caleb leaned around him in order to get a proper view of the injuries, and what he saw, concerned him greatly.

The rope had completely cut through the skin, exposing the wounds in a series of gash-like cuts. Any hospital that they took him to, would immediately question why he had injuries like that.

And those were questions that they couldn't afford.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered.

If he hadn't been so gullible, they wouldn't be there.

"Don't say that," Caleb said, as he comfortingly ran his hand down Dean's cheek. "This is not your fault, do you hear me?"

Dean nodded.

Even though it did little to ease his guilt, he tried to hold on to Caleb's words, as he leaned his head back against the wooden plank he had been tied to. The fight was gone from him, he was exhausted.

"I'm going to cut the rope from your wrists, okay?"

Dean nodded, as Caleb leaned around him in order to reach the ropes that were binding his hands.

Dean could feel Caleb's dagger make an impact, as it sliced through the ropes that were holding him.

It was a relief to be able to freely move his hands again, but the most pressing concern were the gashes on his wrist that had been caused by fighting the rope.

Caleb gently took the injured wrists in his hands, as he critically examined them. There wasn't a lot he could do right there, not without a medical kit that they had stored in the house.

"I can't fix this here. We have to wait until we get back home."

"Okay."

"Can you stand?"

Dean honestly didn't know, as he accepted Caleb's offer of help, and shakily stood under his own power for the first time in hours. A slight case of vertigo assaulted his senses, before he shook it off.

"Where's Jim?"

"Taking care of the nest."

There wasn't any commotion in the back part of the barn where Dean knew some of the other vampires were. Either Jim had made his move and it had caught them by surprise, or he hadn't done anything yet.

Either way, Dean wanted to leave that barn, and the hell that had happened there. Clinging to Caleb for support, he began the arduous process of putting one foot in front of the other, in order to make his way out of that place.

Once a slap of cold air hit his face, Dean allowed himself to properly breathe for the first time, as Caleb led him to their car. Sliding into the backseat, Dean closed his eyes, as Caleb leaned in, applying more care to him now that they could safely do so.

"Here's some water."

Dean eagerly accepted the water bottle Caleb was holding out ot him, and drank the whole thing in under a minute.

"Thanks."

"You bet."

"How is he?" Jim asked, as he came toward them, machete tucked away safely.

"I don't know. He's dehydrated," Caleb replied, as he watched Dean carefully.

"Okay, where do you think we should go?"

"Home. If we take him to a hospital, they'll see the gash on his wrist, and they'll wonder how that happened."

"Do we have the supplies at home to care for this?"

"I think so."

Jim nodded hesitantly, as he slid into the driver's seat. "Alright."

Going to the hospital was fraught full of risks, and Dean knew that.

He tried to settle himself for the ride ahead, but he was feeling antsy as he moved around in the backseat.

Once they reached the house, Dean breathed a sigh of relief as his guardians led him into the safety and security of their house.

Directing him to the island counter, Caleb directed an overhead light over his wrists so he could see them clearly.

"Okay, Jim, go get the med kit."

"Okay."

When Jim returned with the kit, Caleb opened it and retrieved the supplies he needed in order to treat it efficiently.

"I have to clean this out before I apply any stitches."

"Okay," Dean said, gritting his teeth.

He watched as Caleb opened a bottle of alcohol and dabbed it on a piece of gauze, before gingerly wiping the wound clean. It stung, and Dean couldn't help the gasp that escaped from between his clenched teeth.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," he said, "just be fast."

"I'm trying."

Once he was done applying the cleaning to both of the wounds, Caleb took out a syringe from the kit.

"I have to inject this into the cut to deaden the area when I apply the stitches."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

Turning his head away, unable to watch, he put his fist up to his mouth in order to control the scream he was sure would come out of his mouth.

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.

After that, the process was fairly simple as Caleb put the stitches in, and wrapped his wrists securely in a bandage.

"Thank you."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Caleb said, reaching over and giving him a hug. "You are, right?"

"Now I am."


	20. Chapter 20

**Sam's First Stitches**

_1988_

It's a fact of life: children get injured. Some are minor cuts and bruises that can be remedied with a quick kiss to the infected area, and maybe some ice cream to soothe the soul.

Some are a little more serious and require extra attention.

It could happen to anyone.

Any child that is naturally curious about life, and doesn't pay closer attention to what he or she is doing, and ends up falling and injuring him or herself.

Caleb and Jim were fortunate that they didn't have to worry about incidences like that. In the four years since they had taken over responsibility for Sam and Dean, they had been lucky that the boys hadn't gotten seriously injured.

But it was only a matter of time, and they weren't dumb enough to think any different.

The call came from Sam's pre-school in the afternoon. Sam had fallen and cut his finger open, requiring Caleb to come and retrieve him from his school.

Driving down the lunch-hour busy road, Caleb swiped a hand over his face as he anxiously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, hoping to get there as fast as humanly possible in order to make sure Sam was alright.

When he finally walked through the building and into the front office, he saw Sam sitting with a school nurse, who was carefully applying an ice pack to the area.

"Caleb!" Sam cried, running toward the younger hunter when he saw him walk through the doors.

"Hey, dude," Caleb said, as he lifted the five-year-old in his arms. "What happened?"

"I got a boo-boo," Sam sniffled, tears welling in his eyes as he showed Caleb his cut finger.

"I see that, bud," Caleb said, as he gently took the finger in his hand and kissed the tip of it. "Does it feel better?"

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "It hurts."

"Okay," Caleb said, as he hugged the frightened child close. "What happened?" he asked the teacher.

"He was playing out in the playground, and fell. That's all I know."

"Does he need stitches, do you think?"

The nurse in the office hesitated, before nodding. "I mean, I would take precautions with it."

Caleb nodded. "Alright."

The last thing he wanted was to subject the poor kid to a hospital visit, but he knew that cuts like that, weren't anything to mess with.

Letting the nurse apply a temporary band-aid, he thanked her, and walked out of the office with Sam in tow.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, from the backseat.

"I think we have to go see a doctor," Caleb said, making a face, as he drove in the direction of the hospital.

"Yuck! No doctors."

"I'm sorry, bud, I have to."

He prayed that Sam wouldn't need stitches, that it would be a minor cut that the doctor could clean out, and send them on their way.

Knowing their luck, however, the odds weren't in their favor.

"Will they give me a shot?"

"I don't think so, bud."

"I don't like the doctors."

"I know, but sometimes, you have to go."

Sam shook his head, as he sat in his car seat. "Deany says that doctors are no good."

"Did he now?" Caleb asked, shaking his head, as he made a mental note to talk to Dean about that later.

"He did."

The hospital wasn't too far, and soon enough they were pulling into the hospital entrance. Because their workload was relatively short for the afternoon, they were able see Sam without too much waiting.

"Okay, Sam, be nice to the nice doctor."

Sam shook his head, as he perched himself on Caleb's lap, as he drew invisible lines on Caleb's arm, with his fingers.

"Hi, Sam," the friendly-looking doctor said, as he came into the room. "How did you cut yourself?"

Sam looked at him shyly, as he leaned back against Caleb. "I was playing and I fell." 

"Okay, can I see?"

Sam shook his head, as he hid his finger.

"Sam," Caleb said, "you have to show him so he can fix it."

Sam clearly didn't like the idea, but he obeyed as he hesitantly let the doctor see the finger.

"Ow," the doctor said, as he critically examined it. "Looks pretty nasty."

"It hurts."

"I'm sure it does, buddy."

Sam squirmed uncomfortably, as Caleb wound an arm around him comfortingly. "Are you going to give me a shot?"

"Well, I'm going to clean it a little bit, and see."

There was a lot of dried blood around the area, that the doctor needed to clear so that he could see how deep the cut was.

"Ow!" Sam cried, as the doctor used a gauze pad and some alcohol to disinfect the area. "That hurt," he said, as he squirmed.

"I'm sorry."

Once the blood was cleaned off from around Sam's finger, the doctor examined the short cut again.

"This is deep enough that it _will_ require some attention."

Caleb nodded, as he bowed his head over Sam's, as he pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head.

"I have to have a shot?" Sam asked fearfully.

"I'm afraid so, buddy."

Thick tears streamed down Sam's face. "I don't want a shot."

"I know, but this will be fast. Like superman."

Sam shook his head, as he turned to Caleb, his last remaining hope since Caleb always protected him from things that were wrong.

"Don't let them give me a shot," he said, as the doctor left the room momentarily in order to get the supplies he needed.

"I have to, bud. Your finger won't heal unless we do something about it."

Sam shook his head, hiccuping slightly, as the doctor returned to the room, this time with a female nurse in tow.

"Okay, if you can put him on the exam table and hold his hand out, we can probably do it from there," the doctor said, as he addressed Caleb.

"Okay." Standing up with the five-year-old, Caleb carefully put him down on the exam table, much to Sam's horror, as he tried to escape.

"Let me down! Let me down!"

"Sam, it's okay," Caleb said, as he moved into his line of vision so he could see him. "It's okay, you have to let them do this."

As the doctor prepared the syringe that would deaden the area around the finger, Sam saw the shot, and panicked.

"This shot will deaden the area for when we put the stitches in," the doctor explained to Caleb.

"Alright."

Moving in closer to Sam, and taking hold of Sam's hand for the doctor to work on, Sam fought back as he struggled against Caleb's restraining hold.

"No! No!"

"Sam, it's okay, bud, it's okay."

Caleb shifted his position so Sam was once again on his lap, as he bowed his head over the terrified boy's, and kissed him repeatedly, trying to induce any amount of calm he could.

"Okay, this will be quick," the doctor said, as he prepared the needle.

Sam bucked and fought against Caleb, as the younger hunter wound a tight arm around him to keep him under control.

When the needle finally _did _pierce the cut, Sam sobbed as he thrashed around in Caleb's arms.

Hating himself for contributing to Sam's nightmare, Caleb tried to hold back his tears of guilt as he rocked Sam gently back and forth.

"It's okay, bud, it's okay. The worst is over."

And it was. After the skin around the area was deadened, the doctor could put the stitches in with no problem.

"I want to go home."

"I'll tell you what, after we leave, do you want some ice cream?"

That seemed to dry at least some of Sam's tears, as he nodded. "Yes."

"Okay."

Grateful that he could at least heal some of Sam's fear, he encouraged Sam to watch as the doctor threaded the needle, and put the stitches in.

"See that?"

"My skin is being tied together," Sam said in awe.

"It is."

Glad that Sam had found some curiosity in what was happening, Caleb found himself relaxing, as the doctor finished up the procedure, and sent them on their way.

"You want some ice cream?" Caleb asked, as they walked out of the building.

"Yeah!"


	21. Chapter 21

**Dean Stays Out All Night**

_1995_

For most of their lives, Sam and Dean had been raised to be as normal as they could be. Hunting, which was a big part of their lives, played a supporting role in their lives only.

Being normal, meant getting into trouble, and doing the kinds of things teenagers did. Sam, for the most part, kept his head down and followed the rules.

Dean was more rebellious, but he somehow managed to stay out of serious trouble.

Part of it was that he respected the rules Caleb and Jim laid down, but he was a wild child, and it was only a matter of time before he got caught doing something he shouldn't be.

The sun was just beginning to rise in their small, Minnesota town. Dean sighed, as he carefully slid the key into the lock that led into the house from the garage.

It was six in the morning, well past his curfew of midnight.

His date had been a pretty brunette from his school.

Falling asleep at her place, hadn't been part of the plan, but now he realized that he seriously had messed up, as he sneaked into the kitchen.

"Where were you?"

Jumping a mile in the air when he heard Jim's voice, he gave him a withering look before settling himself on the island counter.

"You scared the hell out of me."

"Where were you?" Jim repeated, as he ventured further into the kitchen.

"Out, I was out," Dean said, sighing.

"I understand that. Where?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "At a girl's house."

Jim shook his head, as he stared at the teen. "A girl?"

"I believe I said that."

Dean knew the rules, he knew he could never go to a girl's house unless there was adult supervision, and he knew that wouldn't be the case this time.

"Don't be smart with me. Were her parents home?"

"No."

This conversation was ranging so far into the territory of awkward that Jim almost backed out, but he had to continue, because he had to know what he was dealing with.

"Did you-Did you?"

"Have sex?"

Jim nodded faintly.

"No!"

"Dean, if you did-"

"I didn't!"

"Dean, this is serious."

"I understand that!"

"I don't know what to do."

"Just ground me and get it over with."

"Do you understand what could have happened if you had-"

"Yes," Dean said with a groan, "that's why I didn't do that!"

"So what was the point of sleeping over at her house?"

"She's a friend, and I fell asleep."

"Right," Jim said, as he closed his eyes, trying to think. "You are grounded. For a week. "

"Fine," Dean said, as he began moving toward the staircase. "I'm sorry," he added, as he looked back at Jim.

"I know you are, and I forgive you. But it still doesn't mean that you aren't punished."

"I know."


	22. Chapter 22

**Sam Learns The Truth**

_1992_

Dean Winchester knew that he and Jim and Caleb were lucky to have kept Sam in the dark about the supernatural world. To them, Sam was an innocent victim of this life, and they wanted to shield him as much as possible from it.

And to their credit, they had succeeded.

Sam never really questioned why his guardians disappeared for days on end, or why his brother would come back home with bruises in strange places, and en ecstatic grin on his face like he had conquered the world.

Sam believed the lies that his family had fed him.

That they had simply gone out of town for business, and they were training Dean to do the same thing they did.

While it wasn't entirely a lie, they kept the biggest thing from him, that a world far beyond anything he knew, was out there, and that monsters really did exist.

But sometimes, the truth comes out, despite their best efforts to keep it hidden.

It happened, of course, because of a demon.

One of them had gotten through the cracks of the school, even though it was a private school and supposed to be hallowed ground.

Apparently stronger demons could still seep through the invisible barriers that kept most of them out, and it had happened.

The damage had been great. A principle was dead, and several students and teachers traumatized.

Switching schools had been inevitable, even though Sam had been very confused, and wondered why he was being forced to leave his friends behind.

"Dean," Sam said, the night before they were due to start at their new school. "Why are we changing schools? I liked it there, and I liked my friends."

"Because everyone got sick of your face," Dean said, cracking a smile, as he brushed his teeth and switched from his to boxers and a plain shirt for the night.

"No, really," Sam insisted, as he followed Dean into his bedroom. "What is going on? I heard you and Jim and Caleb talking about our principle, and how he died."

Dean stopped short, feeling his heart race as he sat down on his bed, leaning back against his headboard, as he appraised his younger brother.

He was looking at him so intently, so full of the stubbornness that had been a trait of both him and their father.

"Sam," Dean said, shaking his head, feeling tears of anger and disappointment circulate in the corners of his eyes. "You _don't _want to know."

And Dean knew that everything would change if Sam knew the truth about their lives. His innocence, his childhood would never be the same again if he knew that monsters were really out there, that they actually existed.

"I'm old enough, Dean."

Dean shook his head, bringing his fingers up to his eyes to squeeze the tears out before they made their dreaded appearance. "No, Sam-"

"Please! Why is our principle dead? And why are we moving to a different school?"

Dean sighed, as he switched himself to a sitting position, as he beckoned his brother to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

"Are you _sure _you want to know?"

"Yes."

"A hundred percent? No going back?"

"Cross my heart," Sam said solemnly. "Now, tell me."

It would be hard to properly describe the events of their lives, and fill in the missing cracks of their lives, the ones that Sam had been oblivious to.

"Well, the first thing you need to know," Dean said, "is that we have the coolest guardians in the entire world."

"We do?"

"Yeah. They protect us everyday, and they love us."

"Okay, and what else?"

"Monsters _are _real, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, as he stared at his brother. "Like the ones hiding under my bed?"

"Not quite, but there are some out there that are real. Ghosts, and demons, that sort of thing."

"Really?" Sam asked, his voice usually so high-pitched and hyper, was now uncharacteristically quiet.

"Yeah, and we fight them. Jim, Caleb and I do."

"How?"

"Different methods for different demons."

Sam nodded, gulping, as he stared down at his lap. "Is what happened to Mom and Dad caused by a demon?"

Dean nodded, as he reached over to hold Sam's hand. "Yeah, different demons, but they were both killed by the same sort of thing."

It splintered his heart clean in two, when he saw his brother's large, expressive eyes fill with tears, as he tried his hardest to wipe them away.

"And you fight them?"

"Yeah, I've killed a few."

"And Caleb and Jim do, too?"

"And Bobby."

Sam nodded, shaking his head in disbelief. "Is every bad thing that's ever happened to us caused by them?"

"Not everything. Some of it is just plain bad luck. But remember when that teacher took you from school?"

"Yeah, she was nice."

"She was also being possessed by a demon."

"She...was?"

"Yeah."

It was a lot for anyone to take in, let alone a nine-year-old, but Dean thought Sam was doing incredibly well for someone who had just learned his entire, biological family was slaughtered by demons.

"But we're safe?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Caleb, Jim and Bobby love us to death, and they would never let anything bad happen to us, not if they could help it."

Sam nodded, swallowing thickly. "Thanks for telling me, Dean."

"No problem, kiddo."


	23. Chapter 23

**Sam Goes In the Corner**

_1988_

Some children are naturally more stubborn than others. Some are quieter, mellower as they observe the people and things around them. Still, some others, are flamboyantly curious as they challenge the things and people around them.

Jim and Caleb never had that problem with Dean.

At nine, Dean was exceptionally observant and obedient for his age. Instead of challenging authority like his brother had a tendency to do, he followed the rules laid down to him to a T.

Sam was another matter.

Although he obeyed to a point, whenever he didn't like something that was said to him, he challenged it, believing that his way was the right way, and everyone else was wrong.

Even at the tender age of five, he had a stubborn streak that wouldn't quit. It rivaled that of his late father, and tended to get him into trouble at times.

Like the night he refused to sit still and eat his dinner.

"Sam, sit down and eat your dinner," Jim said, as he watched the boy fool around at the table, kicking it and making funny faces at Dean.

"No!" Sam said, as he playfully stuck his tongue out at the older hunter.

"Sam," Caleb said, as he bent down to Sam's level. "You have two options. Either you stop playing around and eat your dinner, or you go to the corner. This is your _last _warning."

Beside him, Dean looked down as he quietly ate his dinner. Even though there were times he knew Sam deserved to be placed in the corner, he hated seeing it happen.

In fact, he hated Sam upset. Period.

It was rare that Dean ever got sent to the corner. Normally, when he was given a warning for disobedience, he listened.

Sam wasn't like that.

He was impulsive and marched to the beat of his own drummer.

In response, Sam stuck his tongue out at Caleb. "Make me."

Dean groaned, rolling his eyes at his brother.

He had really done it now.

"Okay," Caleb said calmly, as he gently took Sam by his upper arm and guided him out of his chair. "Let's go to the corner."

Sam's eyes widened, as though he really hadn't expected Caleb to follow through on his threat to put him in the corner.

A common mistake of children, and one that Sam commonly made as he pulled back on Caleb's grasp.

"No, Caleb, no, Caleb."

If there was one thing Sam hated, it was being put in the corner, but he always did things that warranted it in the first place.

"Yes," Caleb said, as he put him in the spot they had long ago designated as the "timeout" spot. "You are going to sit here for five minutes because you would not listen, and would not stop what you were doing."

Sam gave him his best definition of a death glare, as he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

"You're mean-"

"If you move from this spot," Caleb said, as he talked over him. "The time will reset and you will be back here for another five minutes."

Sam ignored him as he stomped his feet angrily. "I don't want to be here!"

Caleb ignored him, not willing to engage him any further as he walked back out into the kitchen to enjoy his meal.

"He doesn't like it," Dean surmised.

"Nope, but he should have thought of that."

"Yeah," Dean said, in agreement.

"I know you don't like it when we punish your brother, but sometimes we have to."

"I know," Dean said as he nodded. "It's not that, I just don't understand why he constantly does this."

"He thinks he can get away with it," Jim said, "but there will come a time when he will learn."

"Yeah."

Not five seconds later, Sam appeared in the doorway.

"I'm _really _sorry."

Giving Dean a look, Caleb got up from his place and calmly led Sam back to the corner. "Stay here. Another five minutes."

"No," Sam said in that whining lilt that had become his trademark when he wanted something or wanted to get _out _of something.

"Yes."

Walking back out into the kitchen, Caleb resumed his dinner and conversation with Dean and Jim, as he kept a careful eye out for any wandering, little feet that may be trying to sneak back in.

"He'll stay eventually," Dean said, as he slurped down his soda.

"Eventually," Caleb agreed.

Sam seemed to have gotten the message. To their surprise, he stayed where he was supposed to for the entire five minutes.

When the time was up, Caleb got up and went back to get him.

"You were sent here because you did not listen," Caleb said softly, as he bent down to Sam's level, as he looked him the eye. "Can you say you're sorry, and go back to the table and eat?"

Sam nodded tearfully. "I'm sorry."

"Okay, it's okay," Caleb said, as he reached out and hugged him. "Just try to do better next time."

"Okay."


	24. Chapter 24

Sam And the Hospital

_1990_

It was a fact of life: when you have kids (or are raising kids), chances are you'll wind up in the hospital due to some injury or another. Either caused by rough housing with their peers, or due to a common ailment.

For seven-year-old Sam Winchester, it was the latter.

For days, he had complained of a stomachache. One that his guardians, Jim Murphy and Caleb Rivers, thought was simply a stomach bug and would go away in a few days with the proper rest and nourishment.

They were wrong.

Over the weekend, his stomach bug had escalated from a minor pain in his abdomen, to a searing pain on the side of his stomach.

"It hurts," Sam cried, as he eagerly accepted the medicine that Caleb was giving to him.

It was common children's pain reliever, but it didn't seem to be making much of a dent. Taking out the thermometer, Caleb stuck it under his tongue.

"Hold it there under your tongue."

Sam nodded tearfully, as he squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa that he had been laid up on so his guardians could keep a closer eye on him.

"Am I burning up?" Sam asked, using the phrase that Jim so often used when one of the kids had a temperature.

"Yeah," Caleb said, looking down at the reading in concern. "Jim's going to be home in a few minutes, and then we might have to take you to the doctor."

"Okay."

Caleb almost did a double-take. If there was one thing Sam hated with a burning passion, it was going to the doctor.

Therefore, it was stunning to hear him agree to go willingly.

"Sam, besides your tummy, do you feel anything else?"

"No," Sam said with a pout, as he drew his covers up around him.

"Alright," Caleb said, as he went back into the kitchen to call the doctor.

It was the last thing they needed, to have Sam sick.

It had only been a few weeks since his shifter hunt in Medina had ended in an innocent girl being murdered.

The police were now considering him as a suspect.

Caleb supposed that having the distraction of having to take care of a sick Sam would prove to be a decent distraction, but he hated it for Sam.

After talking to the doctor, who advised them with a temperature as high as Sam's (nearly a hundred and one), that he would have to go to the hospital, Caleb sighed.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he got all of the things they would need to make the trip, before he even worried about getting Sam ready.

"Hey," Jim said, as he walked through the door. "What's going on?"

"Sam's really sick," Caleb said, as he got a pair of warm clothes for Sam to put on to combat the harsh winter climate outside.

"He's gotten worse?" Jim asked quietly.

Caleb nodded. "I took his temp, and it's a hundred and one."

"Oh, boy."

"Yeah, tell me all about it. I called the doc, and he wants him to go right to the ER."

Jim nodded, shaking his head in disbelief at the severity of the situation. Just a few hours ago, Sam had been stable, but now he had clearly taken a turn for the worse.

"What do you think? Flu? Virus?"

"I don't know," Caleb said.

His outside demeanor was calm, but Jim could see the extreme concern in Caleb's eyes as he went back out in the living room to get Sam ready for the trip.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked groggily.

He had been asleep on the couch when Caleb had gone back out, and he hated to disturb him now, but they had no choice.

"Getting you ready. We have to go to the hospital, kiddo."

"Doctors?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah," he said, as he slid some socks on Sam's feet. "I need you to sit up for me, okay?"

Sam nodded, his face scrunched in discomfort as he carefully righted himself to a seated position on the couch. "Am I going to be okay?"

"You are," Caleb confirmed. "The doctor will fix you up, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Will I have to have a shot?"

"I don't know yet," Caleb answered, as he switched Sam out of the shirt he was wearing, and into a warmer one.

"Hey," Dean said, as he came in from school. "What's going on?"

"We have to take your brother to the hospital," Caleb said, as he put Sam's coat on.

"Is he still really bad?"

Caleb nodded, as he picked Sam up. "Yeah, he is."

Dean momentarily looked stunned, not even believing what was being said to him, before he jumped into action. "Okay, so we're going?"

"Yeah," Caleb said. "Are you ready, Jim?"

"Yeah."

"Dean," Caleb said, turning back and looking at the look of disbelief in the eleven-year-old's face. "He's going to be fine. I promise you."

Dean nodded. "I know."

"Do you want to sit in the back with him?"

"Yeah."

The drive to the hospital was a quiet, tense one. Every now and then, Caleb would reach back and squeeze Dean's knee reassuringly. It was the only source of comfort he could offer him.

Dean was beyond that, though. His every thought and action was focused on his brother, and what could possibly be wrong with him.

Instead of being his usual, hyperactive self, Sam was quiet as he sat in the backseat with his brother.

"Sammy, we're almost there," Dean said, as the hospital sign loomed before them.

Sam didn't answer; his eyes were almost closed as he tried to catch any amount of rest that he could.

Once they were safely ensconced inside the hospital, they were seen fairly quickly. The doctor was concerned about his temperature, and the drastic change in his usual attitude, which the guys had made sure to drive home to the man.

"What do you think it is?" Jim asked, as he switched from looking at the doctor, to making sure Dean was okay.

"Well, we're going to find that out."

The first order of business, was doing a simple physical exam in order to determine what was causing Sam's unusual symptoms.

When the doctor gently pressed down on his abdomen, Sam cried out in pain.

"Why did you do that?" Dean demanded, moving closer to his brother.

"He had to," Jim said, "he has to rule out different causes for what's going on."

Still not liking it, he was restrained by the gentle hand that Caleb put on his shoulder. "Just stay cool, okay?"

Dean nodded.

"What do you think is wrong?" Jim asked, once the doctor was finished with his examination.

"I have to run some blood work before I'm sure, but this looks more and more like his appendix has either burst, or it's ruptured."

That potential diagnosis was confirmed when the results of the bloodtest came back.

"I have to have surgery?" Sam asked fearfully.

"Yeah," Caleb said, "but you're going to be fine, and you'll come out of it, and be able to go home again."

Sam nodded uncertainly. "Do I have to have a shot?"

"No, but they're going to make you drink really gross stuff to knock you out," Dean said.

"Yuck."

It didn't taste nearly as bad as Sam had thought, and before too long, he was too out of it to care much about anything anymore.

As the doctors wheeled him out of the room, Dean resisted the urge to follow. Every instinct he had inside him, was telling him to protect his brother, even though he knew there was nothing he could do about this one.

* * *

"He'll be okay," Jim said, as they walked out of the room and down toward the cafeteria. "But right now, you need some food inside you."

"I'm not hungry," Dean said, as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at his feet.

"It's not a choice," Caleb said, "you haven't eaten anything since you got home from school. It's been hours since then."

Dean sighed impatiently, not liking it when he was being forced into doing something he didn't want to do. "Fine. Get me a burger or something."

"Alright."

Looking at the burger in front of him, Dean ate a few bites of it before putting it back down again. It wasn't interesting to him, in the least. Not when his brother was in surgery, and he was powerless to protect him from what was happening.

It happened.

Millions of kids got their appendix taken out, but it was much different when the victim was your own brother, instead of some kid on the news.

"Dean, I know you're scared," Caleb said, as he focused on him. "I had a brother, I understand, believe me."

"Did your brother ever get this sick?" Dean asked pointedly.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, he did. Only it was worse."

"How?"

"He got leukemia, almost died. It was a miracle he didn't."

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait much longer for an update on Sam's surgery. Once they had gone back upstairs to the waiting room, the doctor in charge of the operation came out.

"How is he?" Dean demanded.

"He's doing well. The surgery was a success, and you can all come and see him now."

Walking with a notable spring in his step, Dean walked down the recovery ward with the doctor and his family until they reached the correct room.

Sam was just beginning to stir from his anesthesia.

"De?" Sam slurred, making hazy eye contact with his brother.

"Yeah, Sammy, it's me," Dean said with a slow smile.

"Why do I feel so weird?"

"You had quite the ordeal," Jim said, as he gave him a hug. "You'll feel pretty weird for awhile."

"Well, at least you'll be feeling what I've been telling you for years," Dean said, grinning.

"Meanie."


	25. Chapter 25

**Dean And the Knife**

_1995_

A knife had started all of it. A silver hunting knife that he had stuffed in his backpack for protection. His and a few other neighboring towns, had been rocked by a string of unsolved murders.

His family had checked; nothing supernatural about the murders, but that still didn't stop him from carrying it around just in case.

A student had seen the knife by chance.

Now he was sitting in the principal's office in handcuffs.

Apparently it was against school policy and the law, to be carting around a weapon on the premise. If only these people in their impressive suits and smug faces, knew what he knew about the world, and what was in it.

Long story short, he had gotten cocky with the police officer that the principal had called, and as a result, he had been cuffed and detained inside the office.

They were now trying to decide what to do with him.

"Do you realize how serious this is?" his principal asked, directing his attention to him.

"Yep," Dean said.

"Do you realize that you broke the law by bringing a knife on school property?" the officer asked. "Do you realize how seriously we take that?"

"I can't move my hands, I'm sitting here staring at your ugly face. Believe me, I get it," Dean said. "Now that I mention it, can you loosen the cuffs? They're starting to hurt my wrist."

Dean hoped that would be enough to get him to take _off _the cuffs since he had been cooperative after that.

But all the officer did was make him stand up so he could loosen them.

"Look, if we can't hold of one of your guardians, we'll have to take you in," the officer said.

"Well, if you uncuff me, I can call one of them."

"No need," the principal said, "I got hold of him."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he tried to relax in his seat. He couldn't even imagine the shock that would go through Caleb or Jim when they walked into the office, and saw him in handcuffs.

"Are you going to charge me with anything?"

"That depends, I guess."

"On _what_?" Dean demanded incredulously.

"On why you were carrying the knife in the first place," the officer said.

"For protection."

"Against what?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Because of the murders you guys have done a _bang up _job of solving," Dean said, leveling his eyes at the cop.

"You know what, kid-"

"Okay!" the principal said. "Regardless of your own personal fears, you know the zero tolerance for weapons this school has."

"Well, then I shouldn't protect myself?" Dean asked.

"This tongue of yours isn't going to get you anywhere."

Dean simply shrugged, as he looked out the window, waiting for when one of his guardians would finally show up.

When he finally saw Caleb's car pull up, he breathed a sigh of relief. He would be less likely to freak, and instead would handle the situation rationally.

"What...the...hell is going on?" Caleb demanded, when he strode into the principal's office and saw the police officer there, and Dean cuffed.

"He was caught with a blade on school premise," the principal explained. "He was told to leave my office, and-"

"And I did!" Dean interjected furiously, "and you _still _called the cops!"

"Dean," Caleb said, "just hold on. You'll get your chance to talk in a minute."

Slumping back against his seat, Dean chose to patiently listen while Caleb and the other adults discussed what course of action to talk.

"He knows the policy," the principal said, "and he knows how stringent we are about students carrying weapons."

"Okay," Caleb said, "but why call the police if he was going to leave?"

"It's a precaution that we take when a student is perceived as a threat."

"And when we arrived on the scene, he was disrespectful."

It was almost comical how Caleb turned to look at Dean, with his eyebrow clearly raised in a "what the hell were you thinking" kind of look.

"I was not!" Dean said. "Okay," he conceded, "I said _one _thing, but _you _threw me against the wall, and cuffed me!"

"When anyone is considered an immediate threat, we take steps to ensure that the officer and the person involved, is safe."

"Okay," Caleb said, "why were you carrying the knife, Dean?"

"For protection," Dean explained, knowing Caleb would understand that better than anyone. "The murders that were taking place all over, it freaked the hell out of me."

Caleb nodded slowly, as though he understood perfectly what Dean was saying, and Dean knew that he did. "Okay, so he told you why. So why all of _this_?"

"Because we still have a problem with the fact that he was carrying a weapon, at all," the officer said.

"Are you going to charge him with anything? Or are we just going to chalk this up to a bad day?"

"Not if he agrees to a weeks suspension."

"That's great," Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Just can you please take the damn cuffs off?"

"Stand up," the officer said, before moving behind him and unlocking the cuffs. "Do not come back here for a week."

"Fine, whatever."

"Dean." Caleb warned, "don't start anything."

"I said fine," Dean said, already moving toward the door, anxious to get the hell out of there before something else happened.

Caleb wasn't far behind him, as they walked out into the foggy parking lot.

None of them spoke until they were both safely in the car, and it was headed in the direction of home.

"Do you realize how _extremely _lucky you are right now, that you're not headed to a jail cell?"

"Yes," Dean said, as he turned from Caleb, and stared out the window at all the passing houses and farms.

"I understand perfectly why you brought the knife, but what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"What happened that he felt like he had to call the cops?"

"Because I was a "threat" or something," Dean said, using his fingers as quotation marks.

Caleb nodded, as he sighed. "And why did he handcuff you, again?"

"Because I mouthed off to him."

"And you shouldn't have done that, right?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I understand why you did what you did."


	26. Chapter 26

**Dean Visits Caleb**

_1991_

For nearly two months, he had begged and pleaded to be allowed to see Caleb. Dean had lost nearly everything in his twelve years on planet earth. He had watched his mother burn on the ceiling, had lost his father to much the same fate a year later, and now he was losing Caleb.

Though not biologically "family", Caleb and Jim had been there for him and Sam for nearly six years, never asking for anything in return, and only treating him and his brother like they were their own flesh and blood.

Now, he was about to lose that same love that had gotten him through the terrible confusion and pain when his father had failed to return after a hunting trip in California.

What was supposed to be a routine hunting trip in a small town not far from them, had turned into a months long battle in the courts, and for their lives as they once knew it.

Caleb had been lucky to avoid prosecution the first go-round, now he wasn't so lucky, as he was facing a brand new set of charges to accompany the first.

Credit card fraud, along with whatever bonus charges the prosecution had managed to pony up for Lexa's death.

Acting on pure instinct to protect the boys from having any of this come down on them, and out of a deep and unconditional love, Caleb had turned himself in again, subjecting himself to the uncertainty of a trial, and everything that preceded it.

Dean was heartbroken.

For years, he and Caleb had shared a bond with each other that had been born out of a shared passion for hunting, and the fact that over time, Caleb had evolved into a mentor to him, someone who was as close to a father as Dean would ever have.

It was losing _another _person in a long line of people that had been sent to their graves by the evils of the world.

And the hardest part was that Caleb wasn't technically "gone." He was still alive, still holding on, but in a jail cell. Separated by force from Dean and his brother.

For nearly two months, he had waged an epic war of wills with Jim to be allowed to go with him to see Caleb. While he understood their reticence in allowing him to visit Caleb, he still couldn't see how the alternative would be better.

Finally, he had convinced Jim to let him accompany him on a trip to see him. It had been months of arguing and cajoling, but finally Jim had agreed to the trip.

So there he was. In the car, on the way to see Caleb in the county detention center they had moved him to after his guilty plea for the fraud charges.

Staring out the window at the passing cars and scenery, he swallowed back the intense lump in the back of his throat, as he tried to find some excitement in being allowed this visit, but he couldn't find any.

It would be a bandage for his pain, nothing else.

Their reunion wouldn't be permanent. At least not yet.

Not until the prosecution decided they had had enough of tormenting him and his family, and let him go.

Fat chance.

They had a strong case due to the shifter working its magic, and there was no way they would let the ball drop now.

Sighing, he folded his hand under his chin as he shifted his body position so he was facing the front again.

"Dean, are you sure you want to do this?" Jim asked, as he glanced over at the anxious child.

No, he wasn't sure, but he wouldn't pass this trip up. Not after all he had had to do to get it in the first place.

"It's fine," he said, avoiding the question.

"Dean?"

"If this is the only way to see him, then yes."

"Okay."

Relieved that Jim was dropping the subject, he tried to enjoy the rest of the ride, before Jim pulled off the busy road that was full to the brim with people rushing home from work, and into the expansive parking lot for the county detention center.

Looking at the solid brick building before him, Dean tried to forget _who _he was visiting, and why. This was a place where the hardened of criminals went, where the rapists, murderers and thieves went.

Not someone innocent.

Not someone who was hilariously funny, kind and gentle to those who knew him.

It was wrong on so many levels to realize that Caleb was being forced to associate with people like that, people who actually _deserved _to be there.

Caleb being the lone exception to that.

"Dean," Jim said, as they took turns walking through the large and imposing metal detector. "You can't have any physical contact with him during this visit."

_That _was new.

Dean turned to him with his mouth slightly agape as a security guard made their way toward them. "Why?"

"Security purposes," Jim said. "They wouldn't know if you'd be trying to pass him something, or vice versa."

Horrified by that rule, he silently stewed while he and Jim let the security guard lead them through a bright, white hall of doors before finally reaching one that resembled an office, but with none of the charm or detail of one.

A single desk had been placed in the empty room, along with three metal chairs for sitting and conversing, although Dean couldn't imagine how comfortable their conversation would be if they would be forced to talk like that.

The guard left them to go get Caleb.

Dean used that time to mentally prepare himself as much as possible for what was about to happen, for seeing Caleb.

Even though he had begged for this opportunity, there would be no amount of preparation for seeing his guardian, someone he adored, in jail. Being treated and looked at like the criminal he _wasn't._

When the door opened again, the same guard reappeared. This time, leading Caleb in by the upper arm. Dean tried to smile when he locked eyes with him, but he was disgusted and saddened by the handcuffs that were restraining him.

It brought the whole, ugly situation home for Dean, who tried to swallow back the vomit that was rapidly collecting in the back of his throat.

The guard left them alone, then. Even though Dean knew they weren't _really _alone. The guard had stepped behind a thin sheet of glass that would enable him to observe every movement made by the occupants inside the room.

"You just going to stand there?" Caleb said teasingly, as he no doubt saw how completely taken aback Dean was by the whole thing.

And that was exactly what Caleb and Jim had tried so hard to shield Dean from, the trauma of having to see one of his guardians in such a position.

Dean shook his head, seeming to snap out of whatever had been holding him back, as he took a seat across from Caleb in one of the hardbacked chairs.

"Are you doing okay?" Dean asked.

"Me? Yeah, I'm doing okay, bud."

Caleb's tone was carefully controlled. Dean had no idea if he was lying to protect him, or not. Deciding for his own mental wellbeing to believe him, Dean nodded.

"Good."

"What about _you_? What's new in your world?"

There was a time when Caleb had been up to date on everything that was happening in Sam and Dean's lives, but that hadn't been the case for nearly two months.

Not since everything had gone straight to hell.

"Nothing much," Dean answered with a shrug. "I went to Spring Fling."

"Did you?" Caleb said with a smile. "And how was that?"

"It was good. Even though dancing isn't really my thing," Dean said with a grimace.

"I know what you mean. What about your girlfriend? Did she go?"

"Yeah, she did. She was the one who wanted me to go to that stupid thing in the first place."

"Is she hot?"

"Yeah," Dean said, laughing, as he felt himself relax just a little bit. "She is."

"Well, then, you really had no choice."

"Guess not."

Caleb smiled. "And how is Sammy doing?"

"He's good. He's a little dork, though."

"And why do I not see that as a surprise?"

Dean shrugged, his eyes accidentally catching sight of the cuffs.

It was hard to view them, and know they were on him because people viewed him as a security risk. It was hard knowing that if it wasn't for the shifter, none of them would be in that position.

"I miss you," Dean said, as he reflexively reached foreword to try to hug Caleb.

"No contact, dude," Caleb reminded him gently.

"Right," Dean said, as he sat back down, ignoring the stare the guard sent his way. "I hate this."

"I know," Caleb said, as he nodded in understanding. "Just don't look at the cuffs, okay?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

Sliding his hands onto his lap so Dean wouldn't have to look at them anymore, Caleb smiled softly as he looked at the stricken twelve-year-old.

"Let's not talk about anything to do with my case, sound good?"

"Yeah."

"What else has been going on?"

Dean shrugged. "I went on a hunt with Bobby."

"Really? How did that go?"

"Good. It was a pizza shack place that was built on cursed land, and Bobby and I had to actually burn the place _to _the ground in order to scorch the bones."

Caleb laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I would have paid gold to see that. And I bet _you _did most of the work, right?"

"Well, yeah," Dean said with an exaggerated scoff. "Bobby's kind of getting up in years," he said jokingly.

"No denying that," Caleb teased. "So," he said, when saw that their time together was nearing an end. "Are you glad you did this?"

"I am."

"I am, too, and as long as we can continue to have moments like this, I think we should continue it."

"Me, too."

* * *

_This isn't really an "unseen" moment as it is more of an outtake from "Where There's Smoke, There's Fire." I hope you enjoy!_


	27. Chapter 27

**Christmastime**

_1984_

Nothing could be more joyous than the holiday season. Especially for two little boys. The last several months had been rocky for them with the deaths of their mother the year before, and then their father, only a few months ago.

Dean, at four, had processed the deaths of his parents with a quiet, withdrawn attitude. Not really communicating with his new guardians, Caleb and Jim, unless he had a question or concern about his brother, Sammy.

Sam, at one, had no idea that his life had just been turned upside down. He had no idea the emotional turmoil his brother was secretly harboring.

Dean _wished _that he could share in his brother's innocence. He didn't know everything. The adults in the house had told him only the bare minimum to get him through the tragedy, but he knew that there was much more to his parent's death than met the eye.

He loved Caleb and Jim. He loved that they took the time to explain things to him, and play with him and his brother when they could. And they also provided nice bedrooms for he and Sammy, complete with toys and nice clothes.

And from what he could remember of his father, he seemed to have liked them too.

Even though Dean had made great strides in becoming more extroverted, and interacting more with the people and things in his world, there were certain triggers that made him regress in the slightest.

Christmas being one of those triggers.

He had memories of his mother baking Christmas cookies; the delicious aroma of the sugary treats, wafting throughout the entire house as she helped him decorate his own cookies, and helped him craft a note for Santa Claus.

None of that would happen anymore.

His mother was dead. In Heaven, along with his father, or so that was what Jim had told him when he had cautiously inquired about their locations.

It had to be confusing to him. One second he had his mother and her loving ways, and then the next second, he was being told to run out of his burning home with his baby brother, while his father foolishly stayed inside to attempt a rescue.

And then his father died. One moment, he was kissing Dean goodbye, and then he was gone. And Jim and Caleb were left with the aftermath of having to tell him that his father was gone.

"Dean," Jim said, as he delicately strung the Christmas lights around the newly put up tree. "Do you want to help me decorate the tree?"

Dean shrugged as he hung back nervously. Normally, that had been an activity that he and his mother had done together. "Mommy and I used to do it together."

Jim smiled softly, as he came over to the five-year-old, and knelt down to his level. "Did you? Well, would you like to help me with this one?"

"I don't know."

Looking at the Christmas tree as it shone brightly in the glow of the window, where the sun and snow created a dazzling effect, he tried to hold his tears in. When his mother had died, his father had hardly cried, and he tried to follow his example.

"I think you would have fun."

Dean nodded, unsure. "Okay."

Following Jim into the spacious living space, he bent over the box of ornaments and peered inside. Some were classic tributes to ornaments. Including a miniature Santa Claus and golden star that went right on top.

"Do you want to put reindeer on there?" Jim asked, as he handed Dean the ornaments.

"Sure," Dean said, allowing a small smile to grace his features as he took the ornament by its hook, and placed it on a branch.

"Good job. Do you want to do the rest of the bottom of the tree?"

"I want to put the star on top of the tree."

"Absolutely."

Thrilled that Dean was getting into the Christmas spirit, Jim gladly lifted him up so he could reach the top of the tree. It was rewarding to be able to see the smile on Dean's face, as he fitted the star on the uppermost part of the tree.

"I think it looks good," Dean said, as Jim put him down.

"I think it does, too."

Christmas morning dawned bright and early. The boys, as they had done from Christmas past, woke up bright and early (much to the horror of their new guardians), and demanded they open their presents.

Jim and Caleb were more than happy to oblige. Dean opened some action figures that he had been eyeballing for weeks, and Sammy had gotten some new clothes and some toddler puzzles and toys that he had sorely been lacking in.

Overall, it had been a very satisfying Christmas. Even though the boys missed their biological family, they had also gained a new family. One that was determined to keep them safe from harm, and make sure they grew up ready, happy and protected.

It was a very Merry Christmas.


	28. Chapter 28

**Sometimes Humans Can Be the Real Monsters (part 1)**

_1988_

In the year or two since Dean had started training with Caleb, he had been taught under Caleb's careful hand to exterminate many different types of ghosts, spirits and other demons.

Hunting had become second nature to him; almost like breathing.

The thrill of the hunt, at only nine, was intoxicating as he sprinkled the salt and gas on the corpse's bones and watch them ignite into flames.

That's what he knew. That's what he had been taught to do. He understood why hunting was important. It was more than getting revenge for whatever plight a demon had sent you on, it was the feeling of satisfaction and pride in your work, when you managed to save an innocent soul from an otherwise brutal ending.

Dean knew all about the types of monsters that people only dreamed about. He honed his skills to hunt them (as much as Caleb and Jim allowed him to), and he was becoming a very skilled and proficient hunter.

Dean never considered, never _thought_ that there could be another danger out there. A danger that was just as—if not _more_ dangerous-than the things he and his family put down on a regular basis.

It happened on a typical—or _atypical_-weekday evening. While never one for sticking around school longer than he had to, Dean had opted to stay late that evening in order to attend a game club that he and his friends had been itching to go to.

It had been fun. The advanced board games, the card swapping. Dean was glad that he had chosen to go to it.

Standing outside on the curb, blowing white puffs of air out of his mouth, he waited for one of his guardians to arrive. He had told them the time he would be done (nine 'o clock), and they had informed him that would be fine.

It seemed that they were always encouraging him to hang out with his friends, live as normal a life as he could, as they constantly told him.

Not that he didn't understand their point. It _was _healthy to engage in "normal" activities and friends, but once he had gotten a taste of the hunting world, and the thrills that it offered him, it was almost impossible to come down from that intense high that he got when he completed a salt and burn.

Those were the only hunts that he was allowed to accompany Caleb and Jim on. The only ones that were deemed "safe" enough for him to go on.

As the silhouette of a car caught his line of vision, he took one step off the curb, assuming of course that it was either Caleb or Jim arriving to pick him up.

Drawing his arms tightly around himself to combat the frigid cold, he watched as the vehicle drew closer and closer. Squinting his eyes, he could feel his heart start to race.

Something wasn't right.

Swallowing convulsively, he took a half-inch step backward as the car came to where he had been standing just seconds before.

It was a beat-up minivan with tinted windows. Nowhere in their town, did cars have tinted windows. There was no need for them. Residents wouldn't be likely to do something illegal or promiscuous.

The town was supposed to be safe and secure. One of the reasons they had chosen that part of the state to live in, because it offered sanctuary and peace.

In a town so small, no one worried as much about their children. Everyone knew each other, and the sense of family and community, was strong.

But now something was wrong.

As his breath hitched in his throat, he turned tail and started jogging in the other direction, hoping he was wrong and the owner of the car was just there to pick up a student.

When he stopped several feet from when he had last started jogging, he saw that the car had started following him. Inching its way toward him.

Feeling his heart constrict painfully in his chest, he started running.

There was no doubt in his mind now, that the owner of that car was there for him. He had never seen that car, or the owner of it, and he knew that that person was aiming to hurt him.

As if he would allow that.

Fat chance.

His training had never specifically targeted human foes, but he supposed the same fight techniques, _could _work on a human in the right circumstances.

He had been so engrossed in his thoughts, and planning the perfect getaway strategy, that he had failed to notice the van that had now parked itself directly beside him.

Spinning to face the van in shock, he felt his blood run cold as his brain scrambled to find _something _to defend himself with, anything that would take on a full-grown human attacker that was now opening his door, and reaching for him.

Scrambling back, he panted slightly as he ran his hands along his jeans, searching for anything that he might have stashed there to aide him.

When his fingers closed around the rough handle of his fold-up knife, he felt a (foolish) surge of relief course through his veins, as he whipped it out, surprising even his would-be kidnapper, as he aimed for a place to hurt, not kill.

Caleb had always taught him that-aim to hurt, not kill if the opponent was human. You could still injure him enough to get away, and he wouldn't have a murder on his conscience at such a young age. With instincts that he had honed for nearly two years, he went head-to-head with the burly yet muscular man, who had clearly had experience with fighting and fending off attacks.

Feeling a jolt of exhilaration when the knife managed to pierce the creep's upper arm, it was short-lived when the man seemed to recover from the surprise attack, and lunged foreword, grabbing Dean's knife hand and repeatedly slammed it against the side of the van.

Gritting his teeth in frustration (and fear), he clenched his fist around the knife as he tried to fight back with everything in him. It was near impossible—this man—whoever he was, was much stronger than a nine-year-old, and was easily able to pin him to the side of the car until Dean's strength faltered, and he had no choice but to drop the knife.

"Please," he whispered brokenly, as he struggled against the unbreakable grasp of his kidnapper. "What do you _want_?"

The fight had been taken right out of his hands. He was terrified as he stared into the man's cold, heartless eyes. It was the first time he had ever been in a fight that he hadn't won. It was the first time that he had come up against a human attacker, and the enemy was winning.

"You were just in the wrong place at the _right _time."

Before Dean could comprehend what that even meant, a swift right hook from the man had rendered him unconscious.

* * *

Dean was in a fog when he woke up. The knock to his head that he had suffered from the freak, had left him woozy as he immediately raised a hand to his forehead, blinking a few times as his mind struggled to reconnect with reality.

Once the events of what had happened in the school parking lot returned to him, his hazel eyes flew open as he looked, in a wild panic, around the room he had been placed in.

There was nothing discernible about the room he had been placed in. From what he could tell from the sights and sounds he could hear, he was in an apartment building.

The room he was in, was small. When he regained some sense of feeling in his limbs, he registered that he was lying on a cot-sized bed in an otherwise sparsely decorated room.

A dresser, a full-length mirror, and that was it apart from the bed.

Groaning in discomfort from the blinding headache he had, he struggled to his feet as he looked for an escape route. The window that was covered by disjointed blinds, would be his only option. The drop was steep, though.

At least three stories.

"Damnit," he muttered, running a hand over his face as he tried to consider his next move. The door was locked, keeping him prisoner until whoever took him, decided to come back.

This wasn't good.

He had been kidnapped by someone, and he was fairly sure it _wasn't _a demon. It was an entirely human foe, who had decided to take him just for the thrill of it.

Even though his heart was pounding painfully in his ribcage from fear, he tried to take some consolation in the fact that when his family found him, that man would be in for a world of hurt.

His attention was diverted from his rambling thoughts, when the door opened, revealing his kidnapper for the first time.

He was a tall, bulky man with lots of arm muscle, and short brown hair. Nothing about him was human, at least not to Dean. There was no feeling in his expression, no remorse or sadness for taking a child from the one place he was supposed to feel safe at, apart from his own home.

Instead, there was coldness.

"I see you woke up. Sorry about the knock I gave to your head," he said, not sounding sorry at all.

"Yeah, well, I've live," Dean said, as he backed up a few inches from the man. "You on the other hand...once my family finds you, you're dead. They'll kill you for doing this."

The man chuckled. It sent an absolute chill up Dean's spine. "What are you laughing at, you son of a bitch?"

"How naïve you are, kid."

Dean stared at him, trying to figure out how he could catch this man off guard. "What are you talking about?"

"How do you think I found you? It wasn't just by chance. Your family were the ones who gave you to me."

Dean shook his head. "You're lying," he said, his voice shaking.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

He knew enough about Caleb and Jim's love to _know _that it was. Those two would sooner die than see him in the hands of some perverted freak.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way."

"You'll be sorry," Dean said.

Springing foreword, he aimed a well-placed kick at the creep's jewels, before attempting to run past him, having successfully downed him for the moment.

His moment of freedom was just that. The man had quickly regained control of his body, and was now charging toward Dean, as he wrapped a tight arm around his neck, towing him back toward the bedroom.

Dean struggled, even though he knew it was pointless. The man was simply stronger than he was, and was a full-grown human being, who could easily overpower a nine-year-old child.

"Please," Dean begged, as the man roughly shoved him back down on the bed. "Don't do something you'll regret. You can end this, you can let me go!"

The man shook his head. "You don't understand."

"Understand _what_?" Dean spat.

"You'll see in the end."

With that, the man took out a kitchen washcloth and harshly shoved it against Dean's nose and mouth. Struggling against the sudden attack, Dean tried to use his hands and knees to fight the guy off, but he was quickly pinned as he had no choice but to inhale the pungent-smelling liquid.

"That's chloroform," the man informed him. "It will keep you under control for a little while."

Dean's eyes widened, as he turned his head quickly from side to side in the hope of getting the foul-smelling liquid from penetrating his system, but it was a vain hope.

Soon, he felt the ugly effects of the gas. Feeling more and more tired, he soon felt himself submitting to the chloroform as he passed out.

When he came to sometime later, the only thing he realized, was that he couldn't move his hands. Looking around in a blink panic, he saw that he had been moved from the bedroom to the living room, where he had been tied to an exposed pipe.

"You've got to be kidding," he panted, as he tried to free himself.

It was useless. Unless he could find something sharp with which to free himself, he was stuck there until Caleb and Jim found him.

He hoped they did soon.

He was terrified of what this man was capable of, and now he was powerless to defend himself against this freak.

He was scared.

He had never felt such an overwhelming fear as he did then, as he leaned his head back against the pipe, trying to conserve some of his strength for later.

The tingling of his nerves, was him shaking as he swallowed the lump in the back of his throat. This was the real deal, and the only comfort he took from it, was that he knew Caleb and Jim would be looking for him.

At least Sammy wasn't in this with him. At least he could rest easy knowing that his baby brother was safe out of the line of fire.


	29. Chapter 29

**Sometimes Humans Are the Real Monsters (part 2)**

_1988_

Dean lost track of how many hours had passed since his abduction. It could have been a measly few, or it could have been longer. He didn't know. The ropes around his wrist had long since started to chaff his skin, a product no doubt of his endless struggling and fighting.

Even though his spirit was still strong, he was tired. The fight had long since gone from him, as he struggled to even stay awake through the endless hours, and the endless hunger that were like sharp pains to his stomach and his senses.

Running his tongue over his cracked and dry lips, he swallowed painfully against his parched and aching throat. It had been hours since he had last had something to drink, and it was beginning to show.

Leaning his head back against the pipe, he tried to slow his breathing, tried to calm down. It wouldn't do him any good to panic, even though the temptation to do just that, was strongly there.

"Damnit," he muttered, tears of frustration springing to his eyes.

He couldn't wipe them away, though. That was the hardest thing to realize. For the first time ever, he was in a situation that he couldn't get himself out of.

Waiting for rescue was the only option for him.

His captor had gone to bed a few hours previously, knowing there was no way that Dean would be going anywhere in the restraints he was in.

Being alone helped. It gave Dean a chance to think, to utilize all the training that Caleb had been working with him on. One of the hardest truths that Caleb had confided in him, was to recognize when escape was impossible.

And this was impossible.

There was nothing sharp within his reach to cut himself loose, and there was nothing he could improvise with, either.

He was truly stuck until they found him.

And who knew how long _that _would be?

The only clue they had, was the knife he had dropped on the ground when he had been taken. It was comforting to know that they would be doing everything in their power and beyond it to rescue him.

At least he had that knowledge to guide him through the fear he was feeling in doses, as he tried to sleep. It was a foolish move, but he couldn't function. Not without some sleep to back him up, and maybe, hopefully, he could escape from his nightmare for a few hours.

When he finally managed to wake up, the sun had come up, streaming in through the blinds and curtains.

Looking around in a blind panic, he didn't see his captor. Thankful for small miracles, he tried to ignore the hollow pit in his stomach, the kind that only appeared when he had gone beyond hungry, and was now starving.

"Come on, guys," he murmured softly.

It was terrifying, knowing that someone had the power over him. Someone was holding him against his will, and planning on doing who knows what with him.

The lack of control was overwhelming, and it made him feel even more vulnerable than he already did when he thought of it like that.

Twisting his head around to glance at the clock that was situated directly across from him, he saw that it was nearing six in the morning. He had been there almost twelve hours, and the time couldn't have moved more sluggishly.

Each second felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours. And hours felt like a century. Time had never been an issue for Dean previously. When he couldn't sleep, he would get up and get something to drink, or pace to calm his nerves.

When he was bored in school, he would simply space out until it was time to leave. Here, he didn't have that option. Each second he spent in that hellhole, was a constant reminder of how stupid he had been, how he should have fought harder when the creep had first found him.

Now, he was trapped.

In the other room, the bedroom where he had first been brought, he could hear distant sounds of the man waking up, taking his sweet time to get ready for whatever torment he would bring to Dean that day.

Dean was never someone who showed his fear. Smart-talking and generally, just being sarcastic, was more his style when he was in a tight situation, and this was no different. It was his defense mechanism, and one that had worked well for him over the years.

The only place he let his guard down, was at home. Where he was safe, loved and accepted. Here, he didn't have that. This man wanted to hurt him, and there was no way he would let his defenses down for even a second to allow that.

"Good morning," the man said, as he sauntered out to where his victim was. "Sleep well?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean said sarcastically. "Being tied to a _freakin' _pipe is the comfiest way to sleep. Gee, thanks!"

It astounded him that this man was taking pleasure in this. He couldn't believe that anyone could be so heartless, uncaring and cold to kidnap a nine-year-old child, tie that child up and then leave him alone and terrified all night long.

"Well," the pervert said, "I have to go to work-"

"What _work?" _Dean said with a scoff. "CEO and manager of how to make kids lose their lunch?"

"Funny, kid," the man said, as he laced up his boots. "I can't leave you alone, not when you might scream."

Obviously the man wasn't as stupid as Dean thought he was. Because that was _exactly _Dean had been planning on doing the second the man had left the apartment building.

To his horror, the man's solution for keeping him quiet was duct tape. His eyes widening, he inched as far as possible from the man, even though the space he had was limited.

"Don't do this," Dean said, shaking his head, as the man got closer. "I swear, my family will find you and they'll kill you for doing this. They love me, and I know they do. Nothing you say will _ever _make me believe anything else."

"Well, if your family _does _find you, we can't make that too easy for them."

Tears of fear and frustration sprang to the corners of his eyes as he tried his best to hold them in. When the man placed the duct tape around his mouth, he fought against it, even though he couldn't do much of anything to defend himself, especially considering how tied his hands were.

"There," the man said, standing up. "Don't worry—I'll take it off when I get home."

Like that would make Dean feel _any _better. This man was sick, this man was dangerous and someone who he wanted to get away from as fast as he could.

When the man finally left, Dean sighed in relief. At least he wouldn't have his ugly face leering down at him every five minutes.

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was nearing eight. Too many hours to go before the man got home, and then another restless night of sleep if his family didn't manage to find him before then.

Despite his best efforts to stay alert and awake, he was rapidly losing the battle. The amount of trauma he had been through in the last several hours, was enough to scar anyone, much less a child.

It was all contributing to the massive amount of fatigue he was feeling. A clear sign of exhaustion, as well as dehydration. The man hadn't bothered to feed or give him anything to drink, and that had all contributed to the weakness he was feeling, and the beginning signs of dehydration.

As the tears came uninterrupted down his face, he willed his family to find him before his symptoms became worse, and more invasive medical treatment would be required. He needed to go home, sleep off this horrible ordeal, and try to find some way to move past it.

It wouldn't be easy, but it would sure as hell be better than staying here and enduring it for however long the man wanted to keep him.

Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore what his body was doing to him. Dehydration occurred faster in children, and he was definitely starting to feel its effects.

His mouth was dryer than it had ever been, and his thinking was off. He could tell that it was more sluggish than usual, and he was struggling to put two and two together. How the man had found him, why he had been at school so late, and why he had been brought there.

Confusion was another symptom, and he was starting to feel it. It only exacerbated the sluggishness he was feeling, and the fatigue as he struggled to stay awake, blinking his eyes several times to give his body _anything _to do.

"Please," he whispered, "please come."

He could feel his heart race—like he had been running a marathon, but hadn't actually done anything strenuous in days.

Swallowing thickly, he tried to do anything to distract himself from this horrible situation, and how his body was beginning to turn on him, when it had never done anything like that in the past.

He didn't know how long it was, before he heard the lock turn in the doorknob. Looking over warily, fully expecting to see the creep back early from his shift, he was instead stunned and overjoyed to see Caleb and Jim.

Relief instantly flooded through his veins, as he locked eyes with them. They had clearly done their research, and had found him before too much harm had come to him.

"Hey, kiddo," Caleb said softly, as he bent down in front of him. "You're a little stuck, aren't you?"

Dean nodded—he couldn't talk, not with the gag in place.

"Hold on, Dean," Jim said, as he appeared next to Caleb. "We're going to get you out of here."

Dean nodded, that was all he could do.

Reaching for the knife he kept sheathed at his hip, Caleb leaned behind Dean and quickly undid the ropes that had been securing him to the pipe.

Able to move his hands for the first time in hours, Dean gladly did as he ripped the duct tape from his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Caleb asked, looking at him apprehensively.

Dean shook his head, too stunned about what had happened to even form words. "No," he finally managed to whisper.

His throat was parched, it hurt to even talk.

"It's okay," Caleb said. "It's over, we got you."

And Dean knew that, as he accepted the hug Caleb gave him. Running his back in soothing, circular motions, Caleb tried anything he could to induce any amount of peace and calm that he could.

"Are you hurt?" Jim asked.

"No. It hurts, my throat does."

"Okay," Caleb said, leaning back from him in order to reach his water bottle. "Here, take a slow drink, not too much. We don't want to shock your body."

Eagerly accepting the water bottle, Dean inhaled as much of it as he could before Caleb took it away.

"Did he give you anything to eat or drink at all?"

Dean shook his head.

"Bastard," Caleb said under his breath.

"He drugged me."

"With what?" Jim asked, trading startled glances with Dean.

"Chloroform. I was fighting him too much, and he did that to get me under control."

Caleb shook his head in disgust. "He'll pay for it, believe me."

Dean nodded. "Okay," he said, trying to take deep breaths like he had been taught, but the weight of what had happened, was crashing down on him as the tears came freely down his cheeks.

"It's okay," Caleb said softly, as he hugged him. "It's alright. You're safe now. No one is going to hurt you now."

Dean nodded against Caleb's jacket as he tried in vain to regain control of his battered emotions. It had been such a whirlwind that he was slightly dizzy from it all.

"Can you stand?" Jim asked.

"I don't...I don't know."

"Okay."

Accepting the help that Caleb gave him, Dean tried standing and was surprised when his body actually cooperated with him.

"You want to go home?" Caleb asked.

"Do I ever."


	30. Chapter 30

**Sometimes Humans Can Be the Real Monsters (part 3)**

_1988_

Dean was wrong—the second he started walking, he saw a difference in his condition. Woozy and slightly wobbly on his feet, he struggled to make it down the three flights of steps that he had been dragged up to by that deranged psycho.

Swallowing convulsively, he clung tightly to Caleb's arm to steady him, as they finally reached the bottom floor. Their car was parked right outside, and Dean couldn't have been more relieved as he made a fast beeline to the vehicle, only to be halted by his dizziness, which assaulted him unexpectedly.

"Whoa," Caleb said, as he reached out to steady him. "You need to take it slow, bud."

"I—I know."

Climbing gratefully into the backseat, he leaned his head against the soft interior of the seats, as he tried to control the intense nausea that was overcoming him. He didn't know what to contribute it to: trauma, dehydration or a combination of the two.

As the car started moving onto the road and in the direction of their house, Dean barely suppressed a moan as he palmed his face, closing his eyes against the queasiness he felt.

It was all signs of dehydration, or shock and he knew that. The question was how to get through it, without losing what little food he still had left in his stomach.

"Dean," Caleb said, from the front seat. "Are you doing okay?"

Dean shook his head, clenching his teeth as his head spun. "No," he said with a groan. "I feel like I'm going to puke."

He wasn't blind. He could see the way Jim and Caleb traded glances with each other.

"You want us to pull over?" Jim asked.

Dean didn't know what he wanted. On the one hand, he wanted to get home and get in bed. On the other hand hand, he felt insanely nauseous and knew that the rocking motion of the car, probably wasn't helping his cause.

"Just pull over," he head Caleb say to Jim.

Taking the choice out of his hands, he tried to relax as the car pulled over on the side of the road. It was near-empty. People were either already at home, or on their way.

It gave them the privacy they needed, and it gave them time to formulate a plan of attack.

Caleb got out of the front seat and went over to Dean's side, leaning in as he quickly assessed the situation. "Alright, kid," he said softly, "tell me what's going on."

"I feel really sick."

"Okay, how long has this been going on?"

"Since we left the apartment."

"It could be shock," Caleb said, "or it could be dehydration, a combination of the two."

"I don't care what it is," Dean said, as he gritted his teeth. "How can we fix it?"

"Well," Caleb said, as he quietly checked Dean's pulse on his wrist. "We need to replace the fluids that you lost. Do you remember when you last had anything to drink?"

"It was before the game. I was too preoccupied, and I was planning on having stuff when I got home."

"So it's been more than twelve hours."

"Probably. I don't know."

"That explains a lot. Children and the elderly get dehydrated faster because their immune systems just aren't up to the task of preserving what strength you have. So, when you don't have anything to drink, your body goes into emergency survival mode."

"Fantastic," Dean said sarcastically. "How do we fix it?"

"IV's, mostly."

If there was one thing Dean _hated_, it was needles, but he would tolerate it if it meant getting rid of this awful feeling in his stomach, as he struggled to hold everything in.

"Do you think we should go to the hospital?" Jim asked.

"No," Caleb said, never taking his eyes off Dean as he checked for a temperature. "I have what I need at home to give him an IV."

"Alright."

The last thing they needed was to face questions from hospital personnel as to how Dean had gotten dehydrated so badly. And if they told them the truth about his abduction, they would face questions as to why they hadn't called the police to report him missing.

It wasn't an option for them. Not if they had the equipment they had at home to successfully treat him and his symptoms.

"Can I lay down?" Dean asked, already unbuckling his seat belt.

"Sure," Caleb said. "Do you feel worse?"

"A little."

As Dean spread himself over the backseat, Caleb scrubbed a hand over his face as he considered the predicament they were in.

He was anxious to get the IV going, but he didn't want Dean throwing up, either. The thought of moving the car when his stomach was already so fragile, wasn't an entertaining though.

"Dean, do you think you might throw up?" Caleb asked gently.

"I don't know," Dean moaned, as he rolled over on his side, clutching his stomach.

"If you feel like you might, you have to sit up."

Dean shook his head, feeling tears spring to the corners of his eyes as he desperately tried to stave off the nausea that he felt. It was a miserable feeling, and he hated the out of control feeling it gave him more than anything.

"No."

"Yes," Caleb said firmly. "If you throw up while you are lying down, you might choke on your vomit. You have to sit up if you feel like you are."

"Just get me home."

"Alright, we're about four blocks from the house. Not far at all."

Dean nodded, as Caleb left him to get in the front seat while he continued to take up the whole of the backseat with his body, as he laid down.

The journey back to the house didn't take long at all. Soon, Dean could see darkness envelop the car as they pulled into the garage.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean struggled to a sitting position, as he shakily got out of the car to go in the house. It was a huge source of relief and peace to be home, where he knew he was safe and loved, and where he could get the proper medical treatment.

"Where's Sam?" he asked, looking around for his conspicuously absent little brother.

"He's with Bobby," Caleb assured him, coming in behind him. "He was working a case near bye and offered to take him back with him so we could focus on finding you."

"Oh, good."

Still feeling incredibly weak from the dehydration, and lack of food, he immediately went over to the couch and carefully laid down on it.

He was exhausted from the trauma he had endured, and the plain lack of sleep in the last several hours. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep, now that he knew he was safe, but his dehydration needed to be put under control first.

"Alright," Caleb said, as he came into the room with the supplies that he needed. "How are you feeling, dude?"

"Eh," Dean said. "Been better."

"Yeah, well, you've been through quite a lot, kiddo."

Sitting down next to him, Caleb got out all of the things that he needed. "Alright, you know I need to do this IV, right?"

Dean nodded, swallowing thickly. "Just...do it fast."

"I will. I promise."

Reaching for one of Dean's hands, Caleb ran his thumb along his wrist, trying to decipher where he should place the needle.

"How long will it take?" Dean asked weakly.

"Just a few minutes, nothing more. I have to warn you, it's going to hurt a little bit."

"Son of a bitch," Dean swore, as he ran a hand over his face.

Getting out the alcohol, Caleb dabbed some on a piece of cotton and ran it along the area where he would be inserting the IV.

"Alright, the process is fairly simple. Once the port is in, we can start pumping those fluids in there."

"Okay."

Grateful that Caleb was talking him through it, Dean tried not to flinch when the needle pierced through his wrist.

After that, it was fairly painless. Once Caleb had the fluids attached, he tried to relax. It would do the work while all he had to do, was rest.

"Okay," Caleb said, once he had taped it down to his wrist. "You have to leave this in, of course, and you have to rest. It's essential that you allow this to work."

"Okay."

Closing his eyes, Dean tried to take comfort in the fact that he was safe. He was no longer inside that awful apartment, and he had been rescued.

Everything was okay.


	31. Chapter 31

**Close To the Brink (part 1)**

_1995_

If there was one singular thing Dean loved _most _in the world besides hunting, it was driving. The incomparable feel of the wheel beneath his hands, the wind blowing past his face, giving him permission to go even _faster_.

The purr of the engine, tended to with his careful and loving hands. It was a complete burst of freedom he had that, until that point, wasn't matched by anything.

Whenever he was allowed to get behind the wheel of his precious baby, he didn't waste a second as he checked her over for any oil leaks or other fractures like he had been taught, and then got behind her wheel, and powered her up.

At sixteen, he had only had his license for a few months. Enough for Caleb and Jim to begin trusting him on the main roads leading to and from their town, but not enough to travel on the dangerous and competitive freeways.

That privilege would come when he had proven himself responsible on the town roads. Not that he minded, he used plenty of speed on the regular roads without using the highway.

The absolute highlight of his short driving career, was when Caleb and Jim informed him that he could begin driving Sammy places, as long as he absolutely obeyed all rules of the road, and didn't get any tickets while he was driving with him.

Dean gladly (and willingly) accepted those conditions. He was excited to share this experience with his brother, and blast his beloved music on top volume as they cruised smoothly down the road.

"You ready?" Dean asked, as Sam came out of the house with his backpack flying off his shoulders.

"You bet!" Sam said. "I wish we were going someplace _cool_, though."

"Yeah," Dean said with a laugh, "I share the sentiment."

Their first drive together as brothers, would be on the way to school. Dean was one of the few people who actually possessed a car, and already most of the ladies there, had begun jockeying for a ride from him.

"Can we seriously stop somewhere first?" Sam asked, as he settled himself in the car and buckled up.

"Where?" Dean asked, as he looked at the time. "We don't have a lot of time."

"Just to get a drink or something."

"Fine," Dean said with a sigh. "But you aren't drinking it in here."

"Fine," Sam grumbled, clearly not happy with the fact that he couldn't drink in the vehicle.

"So, Sammy," Dean said, as he glanced at the road with one eye, while sifting through his music collection with the other. "What will it be? Motorhead, Black Sabbath, or AC/DC?"

"How about neither?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing that trick wouldn't ever work on his brother, who lived and breathed for those bands.

"Nice try...not," Dean said with a quick roll of his eyes, as he finally selected a tape at random and slid into the cassette player.

Within seconds, the heavy bass beats and screaming lyrics of an AC/DC song, filled the speakers.

Even though Sam didn't usually like those bands, he found himself dancing in his seat to the beat of it, as he mouthed the lyrics to himself. It was so cool, riding in his brother's brand new car, even if it _was _on the way to someplace like _school._

"This is awesome!" Sam shouted, as he turned an exultant grin on his brother.

"What?" Dean shouted back. "Can't hear you," he said, tapping the stereo, "the music's too loud."

Sam shook his head in amusement as he settled back against the soft interior of the car. Dean had gotten the car as a gift from Bobby on his sixteenth birthday, and Dean had positively cherished the thing with tender loving care ever since.

Once they got their drinks, Dean regretfully pulled into the direction of the school. It was the bane of his existence, especially when he could be doing something useful like hunting, or research.

Sam was the stickler for perfect attendance; not him.

"We should go out sometime this weekend," Sam remarked, as they pulled in the general neighborhood of the school.

Sam could still see the school buses making their way to and from the school. It wasn't that long ago that Sam had been forced to ride the bus to school. This way was _way _cooler.

"Yeah, tell me all about-"

"Dean, look out!" Sam shouted, seeing the large pickup tree out of the corner of his eye.

Reacting on pure instinct, Dean slammed on the brakes and jerked on the wheel sharply to swerve out of the way of the oncoming monstrosity.

What he _hadn't _taken into account, was the traffic in the opposite lane, that he ended up running into. The deafening crash, the sickening sound of bending metal, and unimaginable pain filled Dean's every sense.

He was in shock. His heart pounding frantically in his chest, as he tried to see through the agonizing pain that was rapidly generating throughout his entire body.

"Sammy," he croaked, coughing up something that looked suspiciously like blood.

Then everything went black...

* * *

It had all happened so fast. One minute he and Dean had been driving the familiar path to school, after getting their favorite drinks, and then Sam had seen the pickup truck out of the corner of his eye.

He barely remembered shouting to Dean to look out. Or the collision that had followed after that, when Dean had swerved into oncoming traffic in order to avoid the pickup truck.

The sounds of the cars impacting theirs, was the only solid thing that Sam remembered, and the blinding pain in his head when it hit the dashboard.

"Sammy," he heard Dean choke out to him.

"Dean," Sam coughed. "I'm right here. Are you okay?"

No answer.

"Dean!"

No answer.

Panic filling his every sense at his brother's unresponsiveness, he tried to move but was barred by the twisted wreckage that was all that was left of his brother's prized possession.

How long had it been? A few seconds? A few minutes? Around him, he could hear chaos as different people swarmed around the car. Some were arguing amongst each other, trying to figure out the best way to help the trapped brothers, and some were simply observing.

Sam wanted to tell them to stop staring; to get help for he and his brother.

They were hurt.

Their car was totaled.

And they were inside it.

Clamping a hand to his throbbing head, Sam was stunned when he saw blood trickling down his hand. Groaning in discomfort, he tried to calm down, remembering something from his health class that mentioned that panicking only contributed to the symptoms you already had.

Finally, after what literally seemed like an eternity, he heard the familiar ambulance sirens as they pulled up a few feet from the car, giving them plenty of time to work.

"Don't move," one paramedic said, as she leaned into the car as far as she could to assess the situation at hand.

"My brother—he's hurt," Sam croaked. "Help him."

"My partner is helping him," she informed him calmly, "let's focus on you."

"My head hurts," Sam said, satisfied that his brother was being taken care of.

"Okay, stay calm. We got you."

Sam tried to wait patiently while the paramedics employed the jaws of life to grant them access to the totaled, mangled remains of the once beautiful car.

"Okay, we're going to move you," she explained to him. "I need you to keep very still, okay?"

Sam nodded, swallowing convulsively as thick tears sprang to the corners of his eyes. "Okay. Have you called my family?"

"Someone is doing that," she said, as she strapped a neck brace around his neck to immobilize his head and back. "I need you stay calm, sweetie."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

As they slid a backboard under him to transport him out of the car, his eyes searched frantically for his brother, wanting to make sure that he was okay, that they had managed to get him out.

When he saw him on another stretcher, he breathed a sigh of relief as he allowed the paramedic to load him into an adjoining ambulance.

Barely wincing when the paramedics inserted an IV into his arm, he tried to relax. He tried to let the professionals do their job, and tried to look foreword to when he would get to the hospital and see his family again.

And when he would find out more about Dean and how he was.


	32. Chapter 32

**Close To the Brink (part 2)**

Everything had gone black the second his car had collided with the pickup truck. For some reason, the idiot had either fallen asleep at the wheel, or had clearly not been paying attention.

Either way, the driver's negligence had resulted in him swerving, in a blind panic, into the opposing lane where a line of cars had been traveling toward their destinations.

Everything after that was a complete blank. The one tangible thing he could remember, was the pain. It filled everything, making him think of nothing else _but _the pain that had rapidly assaulted his every sense and nerve.

Breathing heavily, he could feel his body try to expel something from his lungs. When he coughed it up, he had been stunned to see blood splatter onto his hand.

The last thing he could remember, was Sam calling out for him. Then the pain overtook him completely, and he was able to slip into that peaceful other dimension where there wasn't any pain, where there was no suffering.

Just peaceful unawareness.

And he preferred it that way.

He wouldn't know the pain or the gravity of his injuries.

* * *

Caleb and Jim had raced to the hospital as soon as they had heard, first from the school that the boys had been involved in some sort of collision near the place, and then from the hospital themselves, who had confirmed the crash and that both Sam and Dean had been involved, and were there.

Now, sitting in the waiting room, Caleb sighed as he ran his hand for about the hundredth time over his face. Sitting there and not getting any answers, was positively infuriating, and it only tormented him further when he thought about their conditions and what could be wrong.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Jim asked, clearly trying to make small talk in the hopes of distracting them both from the agonizing wait.

"No," Caleb said, as he shook his head, clasping his hands in front of his face. "I don't think Dean caused it, though."

Dean was too careful, too responsible when it came to something serious like hunting or driving. It was ingrained in his DNA to be responsible, to look after his brother.

"We don't know," Jim said, "we just don't."

So many things were still uncertain. Who had caused the crash, who had been at fault for the collision. It could have been anyone for any reason on planet earth.

Caleb didn't answer.

Thankfully, they were saved the task of waiting any longer when the doors leading back into the trauma center, were opened and a clean-shaven, forty-something doctor walked out.

"Are you the family of Dean and Sam Winchester?"

"Yes," Jim said, as he stood to go meet the doctor, quickly followed by Caleb.

"How are they?" Caleb demanded.

"Stable, for the moment, but if you would follow me back, I can explain more."

Each trading nervous glances with the other, they followed the doctor through the halls full of trauma rooms with curtained off patients, and family's.

When the doctor stopped outside his office, which was just outside the trauma bay, they followed him inside as he closed the door with a snap.

"Okay," the doctor said, "the collision happened when, according to Sam, and police reports, a pickup truck went into their lane unexpectedly."

Caleb nodded. "Alright, and what happened?"

"The driver was tested and had a blood alcohol level of twice the legal limit. The police don't blame Dean for the accident at this point."

"Good," Jim said, trading relieved glances with Jim. "So what's the extent of the damage, as far as the boys are concerned?"

"Well, Sam was fortunate enough to escape with a concussion. It's fairly severe, but it's not anything I'm worried about at this point. Other than that, he has superficial cuts and bruises to his face."

Caleb nodded, bowing his head in relief. "What about Dean?"

Now that they had been assured that Sam was fine for the moment, their next question shifted over to Dean. The doctor hadn't made any mention of him so far, and it was only making Caleb more and more nervous as he shifted anxiously from foot to foot.

"Well," the doctor said, as he truly looked uncomfortable for the first time. "That's another matter altogether."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, as he studied the doctor questioningly.

"When the impact occurred, the airbag was deployed. They were built to save lives, but at the speed and rate the crash happened, it actually did more harm than good. There's some significant bruising to Dean's chest and lung area, and right now we're also worried about internal injuries."

Both men were silent as they silently processed the doctor's unfathomable words. It couldn't be possible that Dean had that wrong with him, that he was in serious condition because of one stupid drunk driver.

"What damage has been done to his lungs?" Caleb asked, when he had finally found his voice again.

"We're concerned about the right one. On impact, he broke several of his ribs, and one of the ribs splintered and punctured one of his lungs."

Caleb shook his head, feeling tears spring to his eyes. "What—what are you doing for that?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"We have put in a chest tube that should get rid of all the fluid and air from the lung, and inflate it again."

"Alright. What about his liver?"

"There are several contusions on the liver right now, that we're worried about."

"How do you fix those?"

"We just have to wait and see. Right now, he is extremely fragile. His body is trying to fight, but he's been weakened considerably by this."

Caleb nodded. "Is he awake?"

"Yes, but we have to talk about our options."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, as he leaned foreword.

"Right now, his body is wearing itself out by fighting. If we were to put him in a medically induced coma, we could eliminate a lot of that stress from his body, and figure out when it would be appropriate to do the surgery he needs."

"So you're saying-"

"I'm saying it's an option," the doctor said. "Right now, we're holding off on resorting to that unless it's necessary."

Caleb nodded, swallowing thickly. "Right. Can we see him?"

"Yes."

* * *

All morning, Sam had patiently endured the endless amount of X-rays and CAT scans that determined how extensive the damage to his head had been. His only concern was for Dean, and how he was, and seeing his family again.

Perhaps not wanting to upset him more than he already was, the doctors and nurses refused to answer his questions, and had instead gone on with their jobs.

Once he was back in his room, in his bed, he tried to breathe as he closed his eyes. The crash had happened so fast that it was all a blur to him now, the only thing he could remember were the paramedics extracting he and Dean from the mangled remains of the car, and taking them by ambulance to the hospital.

"Hi," Jim said softly, as he came into the room.

"Jim!"

Every ounce of Sam wanted to hop off that bed and run to him, but he held back, knowing the nurses wouldn't approve of him doing that with the state he was in.

"How are you feeling?" Jim asked, as he sat down on the edge of Sam's bed.

"Okay. The doctors gave me some pain meds to get me through."

"Well, I'm glad. You have a little concussion."

"How little is little?" Sam asked, wrinkling his nose.

"A little bad, but very fixable," Jim assured him. "You just have to take it easy for a little while."

"How's Dean?"

It had been front and center on his mind ever since he could form a coherent thought.

"Your brother is going through some problems right now," Jim said, choosing his words carefully. "But the doctors are going to fix it."

There was no way he would burden Sam's heart with the knowledge that his brother was in very serious condition. Not until he absolutely had to, would he tell Sam anything of the sort.

"Well, can you go check on him?"

"Caleb's with him right now," Jim said gently, "we figured we'd split up and cover more ground."

Sam smiled slightly. "Still," he said, as he hugged his knees close to his body as he curled up under the covers. "Can you go check for me?"

"I don't want to leave you-"

"It's okay, I'm telling you you can. Go check on him and then come back."

"Okay," Jim said, with a small smile, as he got up to leave.


	33. Chapter 33

**Close To the Brink (part 3)**

Caleb tried to plaster a smile on his face as he walked into the level one trauma room that Dean had been placed in. Even though he had been warned by doctors on the gravity of Dean's injuries, he refused to believe, almost like his mind was in denial.

How could it be that he had watched the kid walk out the door that morning, happy and healthy and now he was lying in a hospital bed in critical condition?

It was unfathomable to Caleb as he scrubbed an exhausted hand over his face. At least Sam was okay, that would be Dean's first question when he saw him, and he would be glad to give him some good news to temper the bad.

Dean was lying on a hospital bed—various wires and tubes hooked up to him that Caleb didn't even know the names of. It was a sickening, surreal sight and Caleb had to momentarily look away, before he regained control of his composure and walked in.

"Hey, bud," Caleb said, forcing a joking, teasing tone to his voice so Dean wouldn't worry even more than he probably already was. "See you're all hooked up," he said, referencing the wires.

The kid had a knack for picking up on when things were wrong, and Caleb didn't want to give him the impression that he was worried sick about him.

"Yeah," Dean said, shaking his head, a small, weak smile coming across his face. "I tried telling 'em they didn't need to go to all the trouble for little 'ole me, but they wouldn't listen."

"You're worth it, believe me," Caleb said, as he took a seat by Dean's side. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright—my side hurts like a _bitch_, but I'm okay."

"You broke some ribs," Caleb explained quietly.

"Well, that explains it," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Anymore good news?"

Caleb shook his head, grinning slightly. "Well, you have a tube in your side that's trying to blow your lung back up."

"My lung?" Dean asked questioningly, and for the first time, Caleb saw a hint of worry in his hazel eyes, as he glanced down at his side that had been covered by a blanket to hide the sight of the tube.

"Yeah," Caleb said, heaving a deep sigh. "You broke a few ribs, and one of them splintered and it caused your one lung on the right, to collapse."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. So much had happened just as a result of that crash, that it was mind-boggling. Swallowing back the unexpected lump in the back of his throat, he squeezed the tears out of his eyes, as he looked back at Caleb.

"What about Sam? Is he okay?"

None of his injuries meant crap if Sam was worse off, if he was still hurt. From the look and sound of it, he had fared slightly better than he had, but he couldn't be sure until he had it confirmed.

"He is," Caleb assured him. "He has a fairly serious concussion, but the doctors aren't too worried about. They'll keep him here overnight for observation, but if everything checks out tomorrow, he can go home."

"Oh, good."

Relaxing back against his pillows, Dean coughed, before closing his eyes against the discomfort he felt. The nurses had given him heavy duty painkillers to combat the pain, but they were nothing against it.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like sunshine," Dean said dryly.

"Not good, huh?"

Dean shook his head, swallowing thickly. "No. Can I ask you something?" he asked, as he diverted his eyes from Caleb, and instead focused on the checkered tile ceiling the hospital had.

"Yeah, of course you can."

Dean nodded, swallowing the stray tears that had somehow found their way past his eyes, and had wormed their way into his mouth. He tasted saltwater. "We've always been," he swallowed, "honest with each other, right?"

"We have. We've been fortunate in that area." 

Dean nodded. "And we've never told half-truths or lies, right?"

"That's right."

Even in the most dire of situations, Caleb had always been honest with Dean. Even when the situation had seemed hopeless and impossible, Caleb had always told him as much of the truth as he could.

A few years back when he had been arrested and charged with murder one, he had been brutally honest with Dean, and even though it had devastated them both, they had gotten through it somehow.

"How bad is it?"

"What do you mean?" Caleb asked.

"How bad am _I_? How sick?"

Whenever he had caught a glimpse of the doctors or nurses, he had tried asking them what was wrong with them, but they would always brush away his questions with the excuse that he should wait until his guardians arrived.

Big help.

"Your lungs-" Caleb began, hoping to distract him from asking about anything else. It wasn't the collapsed lung they were worried about, it was the bruising around it, and the possible internal damage he had sustained.

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "I know about my lungs. I know about the bruising, I heard the doctor talking to someone about it. What _aren't _you telling me, Caleb?"

Caleb sighed, shaking his head. "Dean-"

"Don't lie, please."

"There's some...damage to your liver that they're concerned about."

"The doctors are?"

"Yeah," Caleb said quietly.

Dean nodded. "Thank you for being honest."

Caleb nodded. "You're going to be okay, bud, I promise."

"What are they planning on doing to fix it? Surgery?"

After all, that seemed like the more logical solution to all of this. Go in, fix what was wrong, and he could go home.

"They're worried because your body isn't responding like they hoped it would. You're really weak right now, and that's something to think about."

Dean nodded, chewing contemplatively on his bottom lip. It was scary to hear that he was weak, that his body was finally responding to him negatively, after sixteen years of being in peak performance.

"So what do we do about that?"

"There are some options," Caleb said, as he moved his hand over Dean's. "The doctor mentioned to Jim and I about considering putting you in a medically induced coma."

"What..what does that mean?" 

Dean had never heard of someone doing something like that, and it scared him beyond belief. Comas were for people who were deathly ill, and had next to hope of recovery.

"It means that they give you special drugs that will relax you enough and put you in a deep enough sleep that you'll be in a coma."

"But what if they can't get me out of it after."

"If they put you in it, Dean, they can bring you back out again."

Dean nodded, tears filling his eyes as he raised a shaky hand to try to remove them. "I'm scared."

It was one of the first times he had ever admitted that fact verbally, and it was true. He was scared of what might happen if the doctors put him in a coma, and he was worried about the damage the doctors had described to Caleb and Jim.

"I know, but we'll get through this just like we get through everything else."

Dean shook his head. "I hope you're right."


	34. Chapter 34

**Close To the Brink (part 4)**

After hours of Sam begging and prodding to be allowed to see his brother, he finally got his wish when Jim and Caleb agreed that he could see Dean for a few minutes. His older brother was still very sick and far from out of the woods, but he was stable for the moment, and they knew Sam should see him while things were still peaceful.

As Sam walked down the hall with Jim toward the pediatric trauma unit they had placed Dean in, he tried to hold his head up bravely, as he matched Jim's stride.

"Remember, Sam," Jim said, "your brother is still very sick. He can't rough house with you, or do any of the things that you're used to doing with him."

"I know," Sam said, as he sucked in a deep breath to brace himself. "Is he still okay?"

"For right now, but the doctors are still concerned about his liver, and the bruising to his chest area."

"Okay."

It was better to know what he was facing ahead of time, before he saw his brother in that condition. It broke his heart and it confused him that his once strong brother, was now in a hospital bed fighting for his life.

All because of a stupid drunk driver that had forced Dean into oncoming traffic. Fighting back the ugly tears of anger and denial at their situation, he forced a neutral expression on his face, as they neared Dean's private room.

When they quietly walked in, Sam was stunned at how still his brother was. Usually, he would be bouncing off the walls, demanding to be released from that confining bed. Or hitting on the hot nurses.

But he wasn't doing either.

Instead, he was lying on the bed, which was only slightly inclined in order to make sure he didn't get sick. An oxygen cannula was attached to his nose, and a blood pressure cuff was attached to his one arm.

What disturbed Sam the most was the tube that was taped to Dean's side. Jim had told him before that he needed to have that in to re-inflate his lung that had collapsed, but it still startled Sam, who swallowed back the sick feeling that had suddenly appeared in his throat.

Dean shouldn't be sick; Dean never got sick. Not like this, not hospital-serious sick.

"Hey, De," Sam said quietly, as he somehow found the courage to approach Dean's bedside.

A few chairs had been placed on either side of his bed for his company to sit and be with him, and Sam gladly took a seat right next to Dean, as he looked at his face.

Outwardly, he appeared fine. The cuts and bruises he had on his face, had begun to heal, but it was the internal damage that they were all concerned about.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, as he opened his eyes, and glanced over at his little brother.

For the first time since the whole ordeal had begun, Dean smiled as he locked eyes with his brother.

"How are you feeling?" Sam pressed gently.

"Feel peachy," Dean said, swallowing something harshly in the back of his throat. "The nurses keep it alright."

Sam cracked a smile.

That was the Dean he knew; the joking, teasing one.

"When are you going to come home?"

"Soon as I can. I'm getting sick of looking out that window and seeing the same 'ole window cleaners."

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "That _would _get old."

His hand hesitantly touched Dean's, the one that didn't have the IV in it. To his surprise, Dean didn't pull away from the touch like he normally would have.

That scared him.

"No chick flick moments, Sam-" Dean began, before he was cut off by a violent cough.

Sam barely flinched, even though inside, his heart was breaking. The cough wasn't a normal cold one, it was a deep and wet one, the kind that signified you were really sick.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm great," Dean said sarcastically. "That damn cough."

It had been there off and on ever since the crash, and he knew he had something to do with his lungs. Either the bruising that had occurred, or something else altogether.

"The doctors are testing it, right?" Jim asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "They're talking to Caleb right now about it. I don't know if they found out what it is or what."

"Okay."

* * *

After Sam left, Dean tried to relax. Sleeping was almost impossible. Nurses and doctors made regular rotations to his room to make sure he was still topside.

He was scared of what could be wrong, scared of possibly being put in a coma if he got worse, scared of all of the possible things that could happen to him.

"Hey," Caleb said, as he came into the room.

"Hey. What did the doctor say?"

"They said that they found some pneumonia in your lungs," Caleb said carefully. "It could have been caused by the bruising, by the fact that your lungs were weakened by the crash, but it's there."

Dean nodded, swallowing back the lump in his throat as he stared at Caleb. He couldn't believe that he was being put in that position, that things had gotten even worse for him.

Pneumonia would weaken his lungs even more than they already were. Scrubbing a hand across his face, he tried to stay calm as he looked at Caleb.

"So what are they going to do?"

"They're going to tread very carefully with this one because how fragile the situation is right now. They're going to start giving you breathing treatments, and up your oxygen a little bit."

Dean shook his head. "I can't believe this."

"I know it looks bad, but there are things the doctors can do to fix this, Dean," Caleb said. "I know how terrifying this must be for you, and I can't imagine going through what you're going through, but this is a little blip in the big picture. You can and _will _recover from this."

"I feel like I'm going to die," Dean said. "I'm not being dramatic, Caleb, I _feel _like I am going to die from this. I can't take much more."

Caleb nodded, as he reached out to hold Dean's hand, and was stunned when Dean didn't pull back like he normally would have. "You're not going to die, Dean, I refuse to believe that, and you shouldn't either."

Dean shook his head.

"You are going to be fine, bud. This is a setback, but it doesn't mean that things can't get better."

"It's not what I think," Dean contradicted, "it's what I feel."

"Well, modern medicine can work miracles, and it can work for you."

Dean sighed, trying to see it from his point of view. "Okay," he finally said.

"I promise we'll get through this. Just like we always have, just like we always will."

Dean nodded. "Thank you."

In that moment, Dean's eyes suddenly went blank. The various wires and monitors that he was hooked up to, started beeping and whirring frantically, as Caleb looked at Dean.

"Dean?"

No response.

"Dean!"

No response.

When he looked at the heart monitor, all he saw was a single line, signaling that Dean's heart had stopped.

"I need help!"


	35. Chapter 35

**Close To the Brink (part 5)**

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion; the team of nurses and doctors had rushed in faster than Caleb could get the words out, and they all swarmed around Dean's bed, as they lowered it flat and began doing the normal procedures in trying to resuscitate the flatlined teen.

"Sir, you have to get back," a nurse said, as she attempted to push the stunned Caleb out of the room.

"No, that's my family! That's my family!" He said, as he held his ground against her advances.

Finally giving up on trying to remove him from the room, she simply directed him to a part of the room where he wouldn't be in the way, and resumed her efforts to help the doctors.

They had completely stripped Dean down as they attempted to find the root cause of the problem, and get his heart beating again.

One of the doctors had begun CPR, while another got the electric paddles ready to use if needed.

"Please," Caleb begged silently, "please, please..."

"Alright, charge!" one doctor yelled, looking back at his partner, who was already putting the jell on the electric paddles to use.

"Clear!" one nurse yelled.

As Dean's body slightly arched off the bed in response to the electric charge his body got, Caleb glanced at the heart monitor, and saw no change at all.

Tears blinded his line of vision as he watched the doctors work on him. One had inserted an endotracheal tube to pump air directly into his lungs.

"Alright, go again!" the doctor yelled.

"Clear!"

Another jolt from the paddles.

Everything was blurry for Caleb. The sounds of the doctors and nurses shouting orders at each other, all blurred into one, as his only thought and focus was centered on Dean and getting him back.

Every inch of him wanted to go and help them, to do something other than stand and watch while someone he loved very much, was dying right before his eyes.

"Go again!"

Caleb watched as they went for another round. This time, charging it up a notch higher than what they had been doing originally.

Caleb prayed it would work—that this final round with the paddles, would be the one that would end up saving his life.

"Clear!"

As Dean's body responded to the jolt it had been given, Caleb glanced at the heart monitor again, and saw, to his complete and utter relief, a change.

Instead of the single, devastating line that had signaled that Dean's heart had stopped, it had now resumed a somewhat normal reading, as the frantic screaming of the various machines slowed down, before stopping.

Sagging against the wall in complete exhaustion, Caleb watched as they finished hooking Dean up to the ventilator. Even though they had saved his life, he was now reliant on a machine to breathe _for _him.

Shaking his head in complete astonishment, Caleb scrubbed a hand over his face as the doctor in charge signaled to him that they needed to talk.

"What happened?" Caleb demanded, once they were out of the claustrophobic room, and standing in the hall.

"We're not quite sure yet—it could have been any number of things, but we won't be sure until we get a CT scan, but we need to talk about our options."

"What do you mean?"

Talking about "options" was never a good thing. It signaled that the situation had progressively worsened, that they needed to talk about other options for care and medical treatment.

It was a situation that Caleb would have paid gold not to have to talk about.

He wished that they had never let Dean have a car so soon after getting his license, he wished that a drunk driver hadn't been irresponsible enough to get behind the wheel.

And more than anything, he wanted to throttle the man responsible for the crash, within an inch of his life.

"We need to do surgery to see what we're dealing with in terms of his lungs, and his liver, especially."

"Okay," Caleb said, "what do you think is wrong with the liver?"

"We're not sure, but it's not a good sign it's not responding to any of the medication we've been trying to treat the problem with. It could be a bigger problem than what we originally thought."

"Okay, so you want to do the surgery?"

"We need to, but if we do the surgery now, in the state that he's in, there's a very real chance that he will not make it off the table."

Caleb felt his heart sink like a boulder into his stomach. "Can't you wait to do the surgery?"

"We could," the doctor admitted, "but the longer we wait, we run the risk of whatever problem is wrong with the liver, getting worse."

"Does he _need _this surgery?"

"Yes."

"But he might die if you do it."

"Yes," the doctor said, bowing his head. "I'm very sorry. It's not an easy decision, but I need one relatively soon so we know what to do."

It was bad either way Caleb looked at it. If they allowed him to the do the operation, they could lose him on the table. If they opted out of the doing the surgery, it would only be a matter of time before he died.

"I need to talk to my family first."

"Absolutely, just please let me know."

"I will."

* * *

Jim was at home with Sam, who had just been newly released from the hospital. Not wanting to discuss what had happened in front of Sam, Caleb steered Jim into the kitchen where they could talk.

"What happened?" Jim asked, as he leaned back against the counter.

"I almost saw Dean die," Caleb said, his eyes misting over at the thought of that.

"Excuse me?" Jim said, his eyes showing nothing but the extreme confusion that he undoubtedly felt.

"You heard me. One second he was fine, and then the next, his heart stops."

"But they-"

"They got him back, but now they have him on a ventilator, they don't trust him to breathe on his own now."

Jim shook his head in complete astonishment, as he looked at his friend. "What are they saying?"

"They want to go in and try to fix some of the damage that they can, but if they do it now in the condition that Dean's in, he might not make it out of the operating room."

"Is there any other route we can take?"

"Not if we want to watch him die. If he doesn't get some of this damage done, he won't make it."

"Then we should do it," Jim said, "we have to give him every chance."

"You know what the doctor said—we could lose him, Jim," Caleb said, "and how are we supposed to be okay with that?"

"If we don't do the surgery, he'll die anyway."

"You're right. Let's tell them to do it."


	36. Chapter 36

**Close To the Brink (part 6)**

Telling the doctors to go ahead and do the surgery on Dean, was one of the more terrifying decisions Caleb and Jim had ever made for one of the boys. Either way, Dean ran the strong risk of not making it through this ordeal, and they wisely chose to go with the option that would potentially save his life.

One of the issues they had debated on, was whether or not to bring Sam along with them when they went back to talk to the doctors. So far, the impressionable twelve-year-old, had no clue how critical his brother really was, and had no idea that he had nearly lost his life earlier that day.

But they knew Sam needed to see Dean before the operation. If worse came to worse, and Dean ended up _not _making it, the guys wanted Sam to have seen him that one, final time.

Even if he would be hooked up a breathing machine, even if he couldn't talk or see Sam. They knew it would be important for them to have that moment together.

"Sam?" Caleb said, as they pulled into the underground parking garage for the hospital. "Are you doing okay, bud?" he asked, as he reached back to squeeze Sam's knee.

"No," Sam said, as he noticeably sniffled. "Dean almost died?"

They had filled him in on the way, and Sam had been horrified by the news that his brother had nearly died, had nearly succumbed to the devastating injuries and illness that he had received from the accident.

"He did," Jim said, "but they were able to revive him."

"So why does he need the surgery?" Sam asked, as they pulled into the nearest parking space, and began the long walk to the pediatric unit.

"Because they need to figure out why he's having these issues. There are serious concerns about his liver, and what could be wrong with it, and then the issue of his lungs."

Sam blinked back tears, as he looked down at his feet. "So if he doesn't have the operation-"

"He won't make it," Caleb said. "The doctor pulled me aside, and made that very clear."

"I can't believe this."

"I know," Caleb said, as he pulled Sam close to his side as they walked. "But your brother, he's strong, Sam, he'll make it through the surgery, and then all we have to do is take it one day at a time."

No one even voiced the possibility that Dean might die. There was no way that it could happen, because he was Dean! There was no possible way someone as strong and lively as him, could die.

Once they reached his room, Sam hesitated before walking in. Once he did, he gasped softly as he saw all of the tubes and equipment that hadn't been there the last time he had seen his brother.

"What's that thing coming out of his mouth?"

It terrified him to see his brother in such a precariously horrific situation. The last time he had seen his brother, he had been joking with him, telling him about the hot nurses and how he couldn't wait to bust out and come home.

Now he was lying at death's door, headed in for an operation that would either kill him or be step one in a long and arduous recovery process.

"It's a breathing tube," Jim explained, putting a reassuring, firm grip on Sam's shoulder. "It's helping him breathe—it's pumping air directly into his lungs so his body will get enough oxygen."

"But—but I saw him wearing the oxygen thing around his nose," Sam said, "why that?"

"Because right now, he's not strong enough to breathe on his own," Caleb said, "the oxygen cannula was only if he was stable enough to breathe on his own. Right now, the doctor's don't trust his airway enough right now."

Sam shook his head as a splatter of tears fell down his face. It wasn't right; none of it was. How, at sixteen, could Dean be in danger of losing his life?

And how, at twelve, could _he _be in danger of losing his big brother? The one person in the world he was closest to, could share all of his secrets and concerns with.

"You know," Caleb said, as he leaned in close to the fractured twelve-year-old. "I think you can talk to him."

"Really?" Sam asked, as he looked doubtfully at his near-comatose brother. "But isn't he in a c-coma?" he asked, his voice breaking on the last word.

After Dean had gone into the cardiac arrest, the doctors had put him in the drug induced coma they had previously talked to Caleb and Jim about. There had been no choice, and Caleb was just grateful that Dean didn't have to be aware of that, that he didn't have to live with the fear of being under like that.

"Yeah," Caleb said, "but sometimes, when you're in a coma like that, you can still hear the people and things around you."

"And you think he can hear us?"

"I think so."

Caleb chose to believe that, chose to believe that at least Dean could have the comfort of hearing his family talk to him, telling him that it was okay, to hang on.

Sam nodded uncertainly, as he slipped into one of the chairs that had been drawn up by his bed. "Dean?" Sam asked uncertainly, "I don't know if you can really hear me or not, and I know you hate all this gooey, mushy stuff, but I love you."

The guys watched as Sam hesitantly slipped his hand through Dean's, keeping there for the briefest of seconds before slipping it back out again.

Soon after that, the nurses came and retrieved Dean for the long operation ahead. There was no certainty as to how well the operation would work, or if it would at all.

The doctor had warned them that there was a high fatality rate associated with doing procedures of that magnitude, in the fragile condition that Dean was in, but there was no other recourse.

He had to have the procedure, or face dying.

"I'm sorry," the nurse said, as she poked her head in the room, "but we need to get going."

Caleb nodded, as he approached Dean's bed and grasped his hand. "Kick it in the ass, Dean, you hear me? You're going to fight this, you'll be okay."

Not able to say any more, he stepped back from his bed and watched as Jim spoke a few words to the sixteen-year-old, before stepping back, also.

Together, the family of three watched as the nurse wheeled Dean's hospital bed out of the room, and down the room to the OR.

"It's okay," Caleb soothed, as Sam sobbed into his shirt. "It will be okay," he said gently.

"What if he-"

"He won't," Jim said, as he rubbed Sam's shoulder. "He won't, Sammy, he's strong. He'll make it through this."

It was the only hope they had. None of them could imagine what would happen if Dean didn't survive; he had to. He had to be strong enough to survive the operation, and come home to them.

* * *

The waiting was the hardest part. Caleb and Jim spent the time trying to console Sam into eating something, but the child wasn't interested, as he decided to cope by pacing the checkered floor of the hospital waiting room they were in.

A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it had only been a hour or so since he had been taken back. The doctors had warned them that the surgery might last up to several hours if it was successful, but there was no telling what would happen at that point.

"He's been in there too long," Sam said, as he nervously chewed on the ends of his fingers.

"The doctor said it might take awhile," Caleb said, as he gently pulled Sam down to sit next to him. "I know it's upsetting, but try to be patient, okay?"

Sam nodded, as he discreetly turned his head to wipe his tears, not wanting to look like a baby in front of his family. "Okay, you're right."

As he leaned his head on Jim's shoulder, he sniffled as he tried to control the influx of emotion that he was feeling. It was bad enough that his brother was in an operation that could take his life, but not knowing how he was doing, or what the progress was, was positively terrifying.

"Family of Dean Winchester?"

All of their heads snapped up, as the doctor came out to greet them.

"How is he?" Caleb demanded, as they all rushed him at once.

"Is my brother okay?" Sam asked.

"If you will follow me back to my office, I can explain better, in there."

Trading anxious glances with each other, Caleb and Jim, along with Sam, followed the doctor down the hall and to his own personal office at the end of the long line of doors.

"How is he?" Caleb demanded, once the doctor had closed the door.

"He _did _make it through the surgery," the doctor assured them. "It was a success."

"Good," Jim said, heaving a deep sigh of relief, as he looked at Caleb and Sam.

"What's the next step?" Caleb asked.

"Right now, we still have him on the breathing tube, and that will continue for the next week or so. The goal will be to wean him off the ventilator _slowly. _We'll give him a few minutes without it one day, then an hour, then a few hours, and eventually a whole day if everything goes well."

"Right," Jim said, nodding his head in agreement. "Take it slow."

"Right. With the coma that we put him in, the process will be more complicated. We have him on several drugs to keep him in that state, and weaning him off those will be difficult."

Caleb nodded, shaking his head in disbelief. "How long will all this take?"

"With the ventilator, we're hoping it will only take a week, and then we can have him back on oxygen, with the coma we have him in, it will be a little bit longer."

"But you'll be able to bring him back out of it, right?" Sam asked.

"Right," the doctor confirmed. "It's all about doing it in a safe, slow way, so as not to shock his body and give it the time it needs to recover."

"It will be a long haul?" Jim asked, preparing for anything.

"Yes. Dean sustained massive trauma to his body, and it will take time before he's out of the woods enough to go home, or even be out of the coma, but we're working toward that goal every single day."

"Okay," Jim said, squeezing Sam's shoulder.

"Can we see him?" Sam asked.

"Sure."

* * *

**Question: Is everyone still enjoying these stories from this 'verse? I know I am, I just wanted to know if everyone was still enjoying this and the other stories in the verse. **


	37. Chapter 37

**Close To the Brink (Part 7)**

The worst part was over. The surgery had been a success, and now came the next step in his recovery process: weaning him off the drugs that were keeping him in the drug-induced coma, and weaning him off the ventilator.

The doctors, not wanting to rush him along in the process, were determined to take things slowly, gradually, as they eased him off one drug a day and observed how he did with each shift in his dosages.

To their relief, he responded like they thought he would now that his body was in a position to actually start the healing process. It was very encouraging, and the guys and Sam couldn't wait for him to actually open his eyes and communicate with them.

"When will that be?" Jim asked the doctor one afternoon, the day after the last drug holding him back, had been removed.

They were all impatient to see a noticeable change in the boy they loved, and have the same joking, teasing Dean back that they once knew and loved.

Although they all understood the trauma that had been done to his body by the force of the wreck, and they knew that it would be an arduous process that would have to be respected and followed.

"We're not sure," the doctor admitted, 'but the CT scans we did of his brain, show nothing but positives all across the board. As of right now, there's no swelling in the brain, no significant bleeds or anything of the sort."

"Good," Jim said, sagging against his chair in relief.

Even though there had been no indication of a brain injury from the start, the fear always remained, especially with the luck they had been having as of recently.

"As of right now, it's up to Dean as for when he'll wake up."

That was the best the doctor could offer them, even though it wasn't much. Jim, Caleb and Sam, when they allowed him to go to the hospital, kept vigil at Dean's bedside constantly.

"What about the breathing tube?"

So far, the doctor's hadn't removed the endotracheal tube that had remained in to aid him in his breathing.

"We want him to be awake when we take it out. We have to monitor his oxygen levels, and if they're okay, we'll take it out right away."

"Okay," Jim said, running a hand over his face. "Any idea when he'll be able to be released?"

The doctors had warned them that Dean's release from the pediatric unit, might take awhile, but Jim and Caleb were hoping that Dean would do well enough that the doctors would speed up his release.

"It all depends on how Dean does once he wakes up. If he does well, we may consider recommending he be released early."

Jim nodded. "Good."

He had no doubt that if Dean was given the chance, he could surprise all of them by his incredible fighting spirit, and a willingness to go back home and be rid of that place.

Already, he had surpassed all expectations by surviving the operation, and had slowly started to respond when given verbal commands by his doctors and family.

Small commands to move his toes, or squeeze a hand had received positive results.

Now, it was only a matter of time before Dean pushed through the veil of unconsciousness that had been keeping him hostage, and awakened.

That day came the next day. Caleb and Jim had just arrived in his room, along with Sam. The doctors had given their usual report on how he had done the previous night, and they had just settled down to spend a quiet afternoon with him.

"Try to squeeze his hand," Caleb said to Sam, when he saw that Sam wasn't sure of what to do now that he was sitting there.

Sam nodded uncertainly, as he slipped his little hand between Dean's big, strong hand. "Can you squeeze it, Dean?" Sam whispered, keeping his eyes locked on his brother's closed, hazel eyes.

Like he had been doing for the past several days, Dean obediently squeezed Sam's hand, eliciting a squeal of delight from his little brother.

"Did you see that?"

"We did," Jim said, smiling softly at the twelve-year-old.

It was what he did _after_, that was the true miracle.

His eyelids, which until that point, had been firmly closed, began to flutter. Sam gasped, while Jim leaped up from his chair to go find the doctor.

"Dean?" Caleb whispered. "Can you hear me?"

It was obvious Dead did. His eyes opened fully, darting around in a panic, no doubt at the foreign object stuck down his throat.

His hands flew up to try to yank it out faster than Caleb could respond, as the doctors all flocked in. Some held him down, while another injected a light sedative to calm him down.

"This is good," the doctor said, over the struggle that had ensued. "His oxygen levels are good. Dean," he said, speaking directly to the frightened teen. "You need to calm down," he said, "I'm going to pull the tube out, but you need to follow what I'm saying, okay?"

Dean nodded, clearly willing to do anything if it meant getting the intrusive tube out of his throat.

"Okay," the doctor instructed, once Dean had calmed down enough to be reasoned with. "I need you to take a deep breath so I can pull this out."

Dean obeyed, as the nurses hesitantly drew back from him.

His guardians then watched as the quickly (and seemingly effortlessly) pulled the tube out. For a minute, all Dean could do was gag and choke, but after some water was offered to him to soothe the dull ache in his throat, it got better.

For several minutes, Dean couldn't speak as he digested the water and tried to clear his throat. It had been terrifying to have that tube in when he woke up, but now that it was out, he was beginning to feel only the slightest bit better as he swallowed convulsively.

"Dean?" Caleb asked, "are you okay?"

Dean nodded, not feeling comfortable enough to speak at the moment.

"Dean?" Sam asked. "I missed you."

Dean smiled. "I missed you too," he said, braving a chance to speak to his little brother.

And everything that would be okay. He knew that now. He had survived through the worst, and now it was over.


	38. Chapter 38

**Dean's First Broken Heart**

_1995_

For most of his life as a teenager, and even as a kid, Dean had broken hearts. Girls flocked to him at school, some even being brazen enough to gift him with cookies and clothing, especially during special times like his birthday or a holiday.

For the most part, he turned them all down. Not that he didn't enjoy the casual fling once in awhile, but he preferred to keep his options open and not let himself get tied down to _one _girl while he was still breathing air as a young sixteen-year-old.

And not that he didn't _enjoy _the attention—that was cool. He liked it, but he also knew that there was no way he would ever be able to seriously involve himself with someone when the double life he led, was far too dangerous and unpredictable to involve someone else in.

For years he went along with that plan even though Caleb and Jim encouraged he and Sam to have as normal a lives as they could, including girlfriends and all the teenage angst that went along with it.

Until recently, Dean hadn't met anyone special. Not until he met Kathy. At a grade below him, she was still a freshman, but possessing all the wits and charm to impress even him, as he actively pursued her.

Wanting to play hard to get, she had avoided his advances, even though he could tell she was just as swayed by him as he was by her. Eventually, she had given in and had agreed to go on a date with him at the local diner.

Nothing fancy, just a nice dinner of hamburgers and fries with someone that he was genuinely starting to become attracted to.

"I had a nice time," she whispered, as she leaned in close to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Me, too," he said huskily.

And for that one second, everything was perfect.

For the better part of the school semester, they were together. Hanging out with mutual friends they shared in common, or going off by themselves between classes.

It was perfect.

And there wasn't even anything special about her, he just loved her charm and wit, and he loved her looks and attitude.

And then, like a bomb that had been dropped, it wasn't perfect anymore.

And the worst part was? It came out of the blue. One moment, everything was fine, to his knowledge, anyway, and then it wasn't.

She dumped him.

Or rather, she cowardly had one of her friends, do the deed _for _her.

Confused (and more than a little angry at being broken up with by someone that wasn't even his girlfriend), he went to confront her. When he finally found her in one of the abandoned classrooms, she was in a lip—lock with another guy.

A jock, one of the real jerks that liked to prowl the halls and pick on the lower hanging fruit.

Crushed and angry had been an understatement.

He didn't know how to handle this. Each time a heart had been broken, it had been the girl.

Now _his _heart was broken, and he wasn't sure how to nurse that wound back to health.

The thought of finishing the rest of the school day, was nearly unbearable to him, especially after he had caught his now ex-girlfriend in a lip lock with some jerk that he didn't even know!

But determined to show her that, on the outside at least, he was fine, he stuck his chin out and finished the rest of the day, even though it nearly killed him.

Once the blessed bus came and retrieved he and his brother, he gladly hopped on as he engaged in a half-hearted conversation with his friends like he normally did.

"Hey," Caleb said, once Dean and Sam walked through the door.

"Hi," Sam said brightly, as he hopped on the counter. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously, as he watched Caleb clean out their arsenal of guns.

"Cleaning out our weapons," Caleb said, looking up at the hyperactive twelve-year-old. "How was it?"

"Good," Sam shrugged, as he grabbed some lunch that Caleb had laid out for them.

"Good. Dean?" Caleb asked, as he turned to the fractured sixteen-year-old. "Was it okay?"

"Sure," Dean said with a shrug, as he grabbed some food and began to head to his room, intent on having some privacy in order to lick his wounds.

"Wait," Caleb said, "what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Dean said, laughing once. "I'm fine. Great."

"No, you're not," Caleb said, "just tell me what's going on. Did one of the teachers-"

"No. No, it's just...nothing."

The last thing he felt like doing, was talking about it. It was still too fresh in his mind for him to be able to process it enough to be able to talk about it with anyone, but he had the feeling that Caleb wouldn't let it go until he got a straight answer out of him.

And he was right.

As Dean began to head to his room, tears already starting to brim at the corners of his eyes, Caleb reached for his upper arm and spun him around.

"Dean, tell me."

"Kathy broke up with me."

It killed him to even say it, but he did.

"I'm sorry," Caleb said, "I really am. I know how much this hurts."

Boy, did he ever. He remembered what it was like to be a teenager in high school, complete with the raging hormones and everything.

"Yeah, I just need to be alone right now."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to say," Dean said, as he avoided Caleb's gaze. "She had one of her bitch friends break up with me _for _her."

Caleb shook his head in disgust. "That was a really underhanded way to do it."

"Yeah," Dean said with a scoff. "No kidding."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said, as he hopped off his seat and ran over to give his brother a hug.

"Thanks, Sammy."


	39. Chapter 39

**You Can't Do This (part 1)**

_1993_

Staying in one place, having a real home and a real school to go to everyday instead of the usual two or three a year, was one of the perks of having a permanent home base for Sam and Dean Winchester.

The lives their guardians, Caleb Rivers and Jim Murphy, had chosen to give them after the deaths of their parents, John and Mary, completely contradicted the way most hunters chose to raise their children.

Most believed that the only alternative would be to raise their children on the road, keep them out of the line of fire, and keep demons and other supernatural baddies from reaching them.

Jim and Caleb were the exception to that hard fast rule that most hunters had adopted. For nearly nine years, they had raised Sam and Dean in Minnesota, with very little supernatural occurrences to warrant anything drastic on their part.

A move here and there to throw someone off their backs. A switch from their old and familiar school district to another, safer and more secure private school. But apart from that, they had always been fortunate enough to maintain a semblance of routine and structure that was practically _unheard _of in hunting family's.

While Sam and Dean had been raised to believe in the "real" danger being in the things they hunted, they also knew from dear experience, that sometimes, _humans _could be the real threat against them.

However, they never realized that the human threats could exist inside school, the one place besides home where the boys were supposed to feel most comfortable, and where the guys could breathe easy, knowing they would be well taken care of.

It started on a relatively normal day. It was the first week of school after a long (and satisfying) Spring Break. Dean had just gotten through with a string of spirit hauntings that had left him with several cuts and bruises to show for it, but with an unmatched pride in his work that seemed to make them less of an issue.

Sam, being still in training on how to deal with the supernatural work they did, had tagged along, but only to watch and provide occasional support when it came to salting and burning the bones, his favorite part for some reason.

The spring and summer breaks were his favorite of the year—it gave Dean unlimited time to hunt, even if Caleb and Jim tried to put a limit on how much he did it, and it gave him time to interact with his friends without the constraints of school and pressure to excel in his studies, and what he was doing.

And this break had been one of the best ever. More and more cases had cropped up, resulting in Dean being allowed to accompany Caleb or Jim on most of them, as he honed the skills he had been carefully taught over the years.

Now, the break was over, and it was back to school for Dean, even though he would have much preferred spending his day training, or going on minor salt and burn cases with his guardian.

But part of staying under the radar and avoiding unwanted attention, was following the same routine that had been in place since before he could remember anything.

He still had weekends to hunt, and that was what Dean tried to remember as he tried to shake off the contagious high that coming down from a hunt, brought on. It was an almost toxic rush of adrenaline that coursed through his body, and it was very difficult to come down from that high, and focus on the real world and its demands.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked quietly, as he watched from the doorway as Dean walked around his room, gathering the things he would need for school and putting them in his backpack.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just wondering. You seem kind of...down."

Dean shrugged. "I'm not. You can come in," he added, looking back at his brother who stood frozen at the doorway, waiting for the invitation.

"Thanks," Sam said, as he happily pranced into his big brother's room, and settled himself on Dean's bed as he watched his brother move around the room.

Sam had learned from dear experience to always ask before coming into Dean's room. That rule had been in place for years, but only recently had Sam started to rebel and sneak in uninvited.

That flaw in thinking had resulted in him, unintentionally, learning the ugly truth about his family and the secret double life they led. Hunting, training, and killing all things that went bump in the night, and his family did it right under his nose.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" Sam asked, as he watched Dean finish packing his bag and zip it up with more force than was probably necessary.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Sam rebutted, in that annoyingly know-it-all voice of his. "You only slump your shoulders and stomp around when you're in a grumpy mood."

Dean had to hand it to him—the kid knew him well; _too_ well.

"I just don't want to go back to school."

"Why not?" Sam asked, tilting his head to the side like he only did when he was extremely confused about something.

"Because I'd much rather be hunting or helping with research, than I would sitting in a classroom full of people who don't understand."

He knew Sam didn't share his same concerns, and that was fine with him. As a matter of fact, he loved that Sam had something else to focus his attentions on. What school meant to Sam, hunting meant for Dean.

They each had their own interests, even if they didn't necessarily mesh with each other.

"School can be fun," Sam said, with a shrug.

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "It can be—but in four years, I'll be done with that place, and what will I have to show for it? A diploma with my name on it?" he said with a scoff. "I won't even need half the stuff in that school, not when I know what I want to do with the rest of my life."

Saving people; honing his skills, practicing _more_ of them. The way Caleb and Jim raised them, hunting was a once in awhile thing, something he only did when he was absolutely ready, and not forced or shoved into it.

The way he was raised, it was a bad thing because of the bad things that happened to good people, but it was a good thing, a good _feeling _when he was able to save a life that otherwise wouldn't have been saved.

Nothing in the world could compare to that feeling—and he didn't want to let it go, or his quest for vengeance for his parent's deaths.

"You want to hunt?" Sam asked quietly, as he drew his knees up close to his chest.

"I think so. If I don't, I'll find something else to do, but right now, that's what I want."

"You can still hunt and go to school," Sam pointed out.

"I know, but it's not the same as doing it nearly everyday like I did this summer."

"You can still hunt on the weekends."

"I know."

At least he had that. At least he could look foreword to something that would combat the awful redundancy of sitting in a classroom for the majority of the day.

"Caleb and Jim won't even let you hunt the big monsters," Sam said after a moment. "Don't you get tired of hunting the same ghosts and spirits?"

"No, not really."

It was true that Caleb and Jim kept him on a tight leash when it came to hunting the supernatural. So far, in his fourteen years, he had learned most tricks of the trade when it came to hunting spirits and ghosts.

He was itching for tougher jobs to complete, but he had only just started training for more difficult hunts, and his guardians didn't want him going out in the field for more dangerous monsters, until he was absolutely ready.

For now, he consoled himself with fulfilling as many poltergeist and spirit hunts as he could while he finished his training for the more difficult cases ahead for him.

"We should go," Sam said, as he stood up from Dean's comfy bed. "The bus will be here in a few minutes."

"Alright, be there in a few."

Waiting until Sam left, Dean crossed over to his desk, grabbed his silver hunting blade and wrapped it in a small towel, and slid it into his bag.

The guys knew that he carried a knife with him to school—ever since Sam had been kidnapped by demons that one time, and had almost been killed.

The risk was too great to _not _have it, and as long as he hid it carefully in his bag, there would be no harm done, and himself and his brother would be protected.

"You guys ready?" Caleb asked, when Sam and Dean came downstairs.

"Yeah," Sam said, hitching his bag up on his shoulders.

Dean shrugged in response.

"Have you boys eaten?" Jim asked, as he came downstairs.

"Earlier," Sam said, directing his gaze to the empty cereal boy.

"I had a granola bar," Dean said, knowing that answer wouldn't suffice, but it was the truth.

"You have to eat, Dean," Caleb said, shaking his head in amusement.

"I did."

"Actual _food," _Caleb corrected himself, as he set some toast and eggs down in front of Dean. "Eat."

"Fine."

Wolfing the food down as fast as it would go, Dean threw the useless granola bar into the trash can and raced Sam out the front door to the bus stop.

It was a daily ritual of theirs, and they both enjoyed it.

When the bus finally rolled to a stop, they immediately went to their separate stations. Sam to talk to his endless supply of friends that he had managed to accumulate, and Dean to his own corner of carefully selected ones.

Their first class of the day was History, Dean's least favorite subject. Sitting through the teacher's hour long drone about the Civil War was getting more and more redundant by the minute, as he looked over at his friends, who appeared to share the same boredom as he did.

"Mr. Winchester?"

Looking up at the teacher that had just entered the room, he recognized her as his Math teacher.

"Yes?"

"I need you to come down to the Principal's office, please."

Confused, he grabbed his backpack from the back of his desk chair, and got up to follow the teacher.

"You're not in trouble, sweetie," she assured him, as she walked down the hall, turned a corner near the office, and walked in.

"Then why am I being dragged out of class?"

To his surprise, when he walked into the small office of his principal, he saw his brother and a lady that he had never met before, sitting in there, too.

"Dean!" Sam said, as he jumped up from his chair and hugged his brother.

"Sammy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Then why had they been brought there?

It made no sense to Dean, and his instincts were telling him something was very wrong.

"Why are we here?" Dean asked, turning to his principal. A man that he normally trusted and got along with beautifully.

"We just need to clear some things up," the lady said, speaking for the first time, as she turned to the two boys sitting directly next to her.

"And who are you?" Dean asked.

"I'm Diane. I'm someone who can help."


	40. Chapter 40

**You Can't Do This (part 2)**

"Help with _what_?" Dean demanded, as he subconsciously anchored his body in a way so that Sam was shielded from the lady's view. "Who the _hell _are you?"

Every instinct in him was telling him that it was wrong. This lady wasn't an ally to them, she may have thought she was, but she wasn't there to help them, and Dean couldn't figure out a way to escape from this.

Not when he had three other people in the room that could bar his and Sam's escape route.

"I'm someone who can help you and your brother," she said, refusing to answer Dean's question directly.

"But what are you doing here? What is _she _doing here?" he asked, looking at his principal for support.

He and the man had always gotten along well during Dean's time in that school—nearly three years, and Dean was now looking to him for him to show him the same support that he had shown him all those years.

"She's from family services," he replied, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"_Excuse_ me?" Dean said, feeling the blood drain from his veins as he looked at his brother, who was trembling against his side. "Why?"

"We received concerns from a parent here," Diane said kindly. "When we receive a report like that, we have an obligation to check out every one."

Dean shook his head in disbelief.

So far, they had managed to avoid being detected by CPS officials, but he guessed that their luck couldn't hold out forever, and that the other shoe would eventually drop at some point or another.

"What _concerns_?"

_That_ would be interesting.

"Well, for one, you've had a few unexplained absences here, and when that continues over a period of time, it _does _raise suspicion-"

"I can explain that," Dean said, feeling his heart sink like a stone into his stomach.

"I'm sure you can, but we're worried about what how your guardians will explain that," she said.

"Is that it?" Dean asked, feeling her case would be pretty weak if that's all she was going on.

"No, actually. On a few occasions, parents and a teacher here at the school, reported seeing a few bruises on you that looked pretty bad."

Subconsciously, Dean rolled the sleeve down on his shirt to hide the bruise he had just gotten from a spirit.

"I was playing," Dean said weakly, feeling powerless in this situation, against what this woman was implying. "I got bruised up, it happens."

"Yes, it does, but when those bruises appear over a significant amount of time, and appear to be getting steadily worse, we can't just ignore it."

Dean shook his head, as he looked over at his math teacher, who had remained silent throughout the entire conversation. "Did you call them?"

She was the last one who had seen his arm and had most likely seen the bruises.

In answer to his question, she avoided his eyes, as she looked away.

That was all the confirmation he needed as he looked away from her in complete disgust.

"I don't know what to tell you," Dean said through gritted teeth. "I got the bruises from playing."

"Well, that remains to be seen. In the meantime, we've contacted your guardians and told them to come here, and while we're waiting for them, we're going to go off privately and talk."

"Me and Sam?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Just you and me, and then I'll come out and get Sam."

This was bad.

Dean knew what she was doing, and it terrified him. She was going to interview them separately in order to see if their stories lined up or not.

And the scary part for Dean was, he had no idea if their stories would match up or not. They had never rehearsed this before, thinking that the only real danger they would have to worry about, would be the supernatural danger they faced.

Legs feeling like Jell-O, and wishing more than anything for Jim and Caleb to get there, he followed her out of the room, giving Sam one last glance, and was heartbroken to see the fearful look on the ten-year-old's face.

He and Diane walked out of the principal's office, and down the hallway to an empty classroom she had obviously been told she could use for this purpose.

Closing the door, she turned to face Dean. "I'm not your enemy, Dean."

"You're sure acting like it," Dean shot back. "This is ridiculous."

"We'll see," she replied in a none-confrontional tone. "So let's see," she said, as she took out some files. "Your parents died when you were five?"

"My mother died when I was four, and then my dad died a year later."

"Okay, and then you were left in the care of Jim Murphy and Caleb Rivers, right?"

"Yes."

"And how has that been going?"

"Great," Dean said. "We're very happy."

And they _were—_the life that Caleb and Jim had given them both, was a very happy and normal one, even in the face of the unreal evil they faced everyday. They provided a nice balance to that, in the way they allowed the boys to have school, friends who had no idea of the double life their friends led, and the way they were loved and supported.

"Has one of them ever gotten really angry at you or your brother?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Has one of them ever grabbed you? Not meaning to hurt you, but leaving a bruise like that?"

"Never."

Caleb and Jim had never resorted to physical violence to punish the boys. When they were younger, it was time spent in the corner, and when they were old enough to appreciate the things they had, they were grounded from those.

"I see. But you see how this looks, don't you?"

"No," Dean said, defiantly shaking his head. "I _don't._"

"You have bruises that really should have been seen by a doctor, and then I have it on file that two years ago, Caleb was arrested for murder."

"Don't talk about that."

"I'm sorry—and then he was acquitted. Where were you during that time?"

"I was at home."

"And how did all of that make you feel?"

"Are you a damn psychologist?" Dean snapped. "I don't have to share my feelings with _you_."

"Okay."

"I want to go. I want to go home with my brother."

"That's not going to happen. Not until we talk to Sam, and until we talk to your guardians."

Dean shook his head, feeling tears prick at the corner of his eyes. "You can't do this."

"I can, actually."

"They love us," Dean whispered, his voice shaking. "They would never lay a hand on us, ever."

"I sincerely hope you're right, and I'm wrong," Diane said kindly, "all I'm trying to do is look out for your best interests."

Dean had a hard time believing that, and it must have showed on his face because she didn't comment further.

"Is that it?" Dean asked, more than ready to have this conversation over with.

"Yes."

* * *

By the time Caleb and Jim arrived at the school, both boys had been interviewed by the CPS official, and were both emotionally exhausted from it.

"Mr. Rivers? Mr. Murphy?" Diane said, walking over to them. "I'm Diane Read, I'm from Minnesota State Family Services."

"What is this regarding?" Caleb asked, as he crossed his arms loosely over his chest.

"This is regarding some complaints that a teacher and parent made to our office regarding Sam and Dean."

"What _complaints_?" Jim asked, as he and Caleb traded startled glances.

"There were some marks on Dean, some bruises that really should have been seen by a doctor, and then there have been some unexplained absences this year that we're looking into."

Caleb felt sick.

"We can explain all of this," he assured her.

"I'm sure you can, but we need to consider all the factors."

"Factors?"

"Yes. How did Dean get those bruises?" she asked, putting them both on the spot.

"Boys will be boys," Caleb said, shrugging. "He got them from playing with his brother and some friends of theirs."

"Right, well those bruises look more than just a rough housing accident."

Caleb shook his head angrily at her. "What are you implying? That we," he said, looking at Jim, "did this to him?"

"Did you?"

"No!"

Those bruises had been caused by a spirit hunt gone wrong, but there was no way he would ever tell _her _that.

"Well, we've had the school nurse here, examine the wounds and that is her medical opinion, that he should have been seen. We also had one of our photographers take pictures of the bruises as part of proof for our investigation."

"What _investigation_?" Caleb said incredulously. "What are you _talking _about?"

"Mr. Rivers, those cuts and bruises on Dean, is no joke, and his absences from school is also cause for concern. Not to mention the..._home _life he has had."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, stepping in before Caleb could.

"We are aware of your criminal background," she informed Caleb. "Two years ago you were accused of murder?"

"That's behind us."

"But you were."

"Yes, but a court of law found me not guilty."

"And you, I see, are gone for long periods of time. Sometimes the boys are left alone?"

"Rarely," Jim said, shaking his head. "And on the few times they are alone, Dean is fourteen and he's perfectly capable of holding down the fort until one of us gets home."

"I see," she said icily. "Well, our department will be in touch."

"Can we take them home now?" Caleb asked.

"Yes."


	41. Chapter 41

**You Can't Do This (part 3) **

Dean was relieved to be able to return to the privacy and sanctuary of his home. Emotionally, he was exhausted from the unexpected morning he had suffered through at school. Feeling like he had been ambushed by the CPS worker, he was physically exhausted from the mental energy he had had to work through in order to deal with her.

He was mad.

Mad that some nosy teacher felt like she had to report his family to CPS because of some bruises and cuts that she had seen, by chance, on his arm, and the fact that he had been absent a few times that month.

While those signs when put together, weren't good, he was still infuriated that someone felt like they had the power to interfere in their lives, and decide for themselves what they assumed was going on, when they didn't even know the half of it.

And he was scared.

Scared that the claims made against their family would be taken seriously by CPS, scared that their investigation would only end up tearing their family apart with their false accusations, and bonus claims against their family.

Almost immediately when they had returned home, Dean had made a beeline to the sofa in the living room, intent on gaining a few moments to breathe away from the craziness that had suddenly assaulted his life.

Sprawling over the length of the couch, he put his hands over his eyes as he focused on his breathing. His mind was a tidal wave of everything that the girl had asked him, everything that she had been implying with her cruel and invasive questions.

It scared him.

Especially when he had overheard the same CPS worker tell Caleb and Jim that they had actually started an investigation into the claims made by the teacher.

That wasn't good.

"Hey, bud," Caleb said, as he moved Dean's feet to sit down on the end of the couch.

"Hey."

"So what do you think about all this craziness?" Caleb asked, as he patted Dean's leg.

"I think it _sucks_."

That was putting it mildly, and he had a few more choice words for their situation, but figured that Jim wouldn't necessarily approve of those choice words.

"Out _loud_," Caleb agreed with a slight laugh.

"That girl talked to me, you know."

"She did?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a sigh, as he bit down on the end of his thumb. "She asked me some really awful questions."

"Like what?" Caleb asked gently.

"Like," Dean said as he choked back a sob. "If you or Jim ever hit us. I told her absolutely not, but who knows if that crazy witch believed me or not."

"Yeah," Caleb said. "She more or less interrogated Jim and I about that same thing."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe this," he said with a scoff. "Those people don't know what they're talking about, and they think they can tear us apart based off what they _think_-"

"Hey," Caleb said firmly, "no matter what happens, our family will never be torn apart."

"Do you think that-"

"That what? That you and Sam will be taken?"

Dean nodded, as he tried to stop the flow of his tears with little results. "Yeah."

"I don't know," Caleb admitted. "I hope not, but I just don't know yet."

"What can _we _do on our end?" Dean asked, straightening into a sitting position.

"I was thinking about that—probably I'll call Dawn pretty soon."

It would only raise suspicion if they called a lawyer so soon, but Caleb didn't realize what other choice he had at that point.

Dawn had helped him through some of the worst periods in his life, but he had never confided in her the details of his personal life, especially the sacred part of it that included Sam and Dean.

"Do you think she can help?"

"She's our best bet."

After all, she had miraculously scored him an acquittal in his previous murder case. If she could wrangle something like that, she could for sure help him win a custody battle in the courts, if it came to that, and get Sam and Dean out of the line of fire.

"Call her, then," Dean said, inhaling a deep breath in order to control his crumbling posture.

"I will."

* * *

**I don't know why-I just like Dawn so she'll be making an appearance in this!**


	42. Chapter 42

**You Can't Do This (part 4)**

In some ways, it was a relief to be able to pick up the phone and call Dawn. It had been awhile since Caleb had last spoken with his powerhouse of an attorney, and he was relieved that he still had the option of contacting her.

He considered her to be a friend, and he also thought of her as the person who had saved him from a potential life sentence in prison for the first degree murder charge he was up against.

Now he was in trouble again. This time with allegations that could potentially result in having the boys taken away from he and Jim if CPS was to believe what the principal and teacher at the school thought.

If she could save him from a murder conviction, he didn't see why she couldn't dig her hands into this case, and score them a win in the courts if it ever came to a question of who would get custody of Sam and Dean.

It was a sobering realization that it could very possibly get that bad—that Sam and Dean could be taken from them and be placed in the custody of the state until everything was settled, and he couldn't imagine a worse outcome for either the boys or himself and Jim.

Luckily, he was able to get a hold of Dawn fairly quickly, and she agreed to come over to the house for the first time, to talk to him about the boys and the case CPS was launching into their lives and what went on behind closed doors.

"Hi," he said, when he opened the door and she was standing there. "Good to see you," he said, as he gave her a quick hug.

"You, too," she replied, as she returned the hug.

"I think this is the first time you've ever been over here," he commented, as they walked into the kitchen where they could converse more comfortably.

"I think so, too," she said. "Nice place."

"Thanks."

As he handed her a mug of coffee, he sighed, wondering where to even begin as they sat around the table.

"Thanks for agreeing to come over," he said, as he scratched something on his upper arm.

"Of course—it sounded pretty urgent. So what's up?"

"There's a lot that you don't know about me personally, and some of that is catching up to me right now, and I need help."

It didn't bother him to ask for help, especially when he realized he was way out of his league when it came to the politics of CPS and how they managed to either win or lose cases in the courts.

"What do you need help with?"

"I have these two boys that myself and my good friend, Jim, are taking care over. We've been taking care of them for almost ten years now, and there's a problem."

"With what?"

"Dean, the oldest, was absent a few times this month from school, and when he returned, one of his teachers saw some bruises and cuts on his arm," he explained, demonstrating on his own arm where the cuts and bruises were discovered.

"Okay, and how did he get them?"

"He was out playing—rough housing with his friends, and he took a tumble."

"What does the school think happened?"

"They think what happened to him, happened because Jim or I hit him."

"Okay," she said calmly. "And what did they do about it?"

"They called CPS."

"Are you serious?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, I am. What rights do we have right now?"

"The State hasn't actually taken any action, right?"

"Right."

"Well, right now, you're really at the mercy of the State and what they decide to do about this based on the evidence they receive. Right now as it stands, you have full rights."

"What rights do _they _have?"

"They have the right to collect any and all evidence to present their case to a judge in family court, and then the judge will have the obligation of deciding whether or not it's substantial enough to warrant taking them away permanently."

Caleb nodded; he had guessed as much. "What happens in between that? Can they be taken while all of this is happening?"

"It's possible, especially if they're worried about their immediate safety."

"Is this something you can take on?"

"I can."

"Thank you," Caleb said, breathing a sigh of relief. "What comes next?"

"Well, first I have to call the Family Services office and get all the records they have, and decide where to go from there. I also will probably need to talk to either Dean or Sam, probably Dean, since he's the one at the center of all this. Will that be okay?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright."

* * *

Caleb absolutely had no reservations about Dean talking with Dawn alone. He trusted her, and he knew that Dean would probably just go along with whatever he wanted for him, which he was grateful for.

"Do you want me to be in there with you?" he asked, as they waited for Dawn to show up.

"No, it's fine. I trust her if you do."

"I do."

"Okay then," Dean said, sounding like it was no big deal.

After all, she had saved someone he loved very much, from a potentially deadly prison sentence. If she could do that and bring him out of it in one piece, he trusted her to do her best for him and his brother, too.

When the doorbell rang, Caleb jumped up to answer it.

"Dean, this is Dawn," he said, once Dawn had walked into the family room.

"Hi," Dean said, "It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," she said, giving him a warm smile.

"Alright," Caleb said, "she's just going to ask you some questions, and then once you two are done, I'll come up and the three of us will talk."

"Okay," Dean said. "Sounds good."

Caleb smiled, before going downstairs in the basement to clean out some of their guns. It would give his hand something to do, and would distract his mind from everything that was going on upstairs.

* * *

"So," Dawn said, "all this is pretty ridiculous, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, as he messed with something on his jeans.

"Tell me about Caleb and Jim. What kind of guardians are they?"

Dean shrugged. "They're really nice, but they're fair, too, especially when we get in trouble."

Dawn laughed. "What do they do when you do something you're not supposed to?"

All these questions she was asking him, she would mentally compile into a list of sorts to present to the court if it ever came to a custody dispute.

"Depends—sometimes nothing, but if it's serious enough, they ground us."

Dawn nodded. "They never grab you or do anything like that? Even when they get really mad?"

Dean shook his head. "No, never."

"Okay. So tell me about that girl that came to your school. What did you think of her?"

"I thought she was _okay_, but I didn't like the questions that she was asking me."

"What questions?"

Dawn knew it could potentially be an issue that CPS had gone ahead and interviewed the kids without prior knowledge from their guardians.

"Like, if we had ever been hit before, that kind of stuff."

Dawn nodded thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

Dean nodded. "She started talking about Caleb."

"What about him?"

"How he had been arrested for murder, and what that must have done to my head. I told her I didn't want to talk about it."

"She shouldn't have brought that up," Dawn agreed quietly. "So what do you think about all this?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm scared that this will blow up in our faces, and we'll be taken."

"Well, I can promise you that I'll do everything in my power to prevent that."

"Thank you."


	43. Chapter 43

**You Can't Do This (part 5) **

Waiting for CPS to finish their investigation, was mentally exhausting for Caleb and Jim, as well as the boys. Sam wasn't entirely aware of how high the stakes were raised if their investigation yielded unfavorable results, but Dean was.

Dean knew all to well how serious this was, and what could happen if they were forced away from their home. Images of group homes and foster care ran through his mind on a constant, unforgiving loop as he tried his hardest to put up a mental block to protect himself.

"Hey, kid," Caleb said, as he came into Dean's room one afternoon.

"Hey," Dean said, looking up from the comic book he had been involved in. "What's up?"

So far, the guys had kept the boys home from school since the whole nightmare had begun. Feelings were still too raw, and to be honest, they were beginning to look into other schools the boys could go to after the dust had settled.

"Not too much," Caleb said heavily. "I just got off the phone with Dawn, though."

"And?" Dean asked, as he straightened himself into a sitting position next to Caleb. "What did she say?"

Caleb paused. "She said that they finished their preliminary investigation."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked, drawing a blank as he struggled to keep a lid on his emotions that were brewing just below the surface.

"It means that they finished gathering all of their evidence, and they presented it to the judge so that he could decide whether this needs to proceed, or if it could be dropped."

"_And_?" Dean pressed. "What he say?"

For some unexplained reason, he could feel his heart race painfully in his ribcage, and he hated it. That was a precursor to bad news, and he dreaded hearing it.

"For right now," Caleb said, and to Dean's complete astonishment, his voice completely shattered. "For right now, he thinks that there's enough to put you and Sam in the custody of the state until this done."

Dean shook his head, a single tear sliding down his face. "No," he whispered. "No, no this can't be happening."

"It is," Caleb said, as he paused to regain control of his composure. "Dawn said that she's fast tracking the court hearing that will determine who gets custody, but for right now, she said there's no choice. "

"I'm not going," Dean said defiantly. "No way."

"Dean, you have to. We don't have a plan B right now."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving, not when you haven't done anything wrong!"

"I know that, and you boys do too, but it's the opinion of the judge that matters, and he's trying to look out for your best interests."

And it killed him to realize that a judge who held power over them, had decided that being with Caleb and Jim wasn't in their best interests right then.

"If he was trying to do that, he would leave us alone!" Dean yelled, as thick tears rained down his face.

It was terrifying to imagine being forced away from his family, terrifying to imagine sleeping in another bed that night, with kids that he didn't know.

And it was all for no reason other than the simple fact that a judge believed what CPS was shoving down his throat. They were the enemies, they were the ones breaking apart a loving and supportive family with their crap.

"I know," Caleb said with a sigh. "Believe me, I know, but we don't have an option, Dean."

"Yes, we _do_. You can take us to Bobby's. We'll be safe there, and they won't know to look there."

The thought had crossed Caleb's mind more than once, but the risk was too great, and he knew that.

"If we do that, Dean, we'll get caught. And if that happens? Jim and I both will be charged with kidnapping."

"I'll run away," Dean threatened. "If you leave me at that place, I'll run away."

"_Don't_," Caleb warned. "Please promise me you won't do that."

"No."

"Dean-"

"Do you get how much this family means to me?"

"Yes, I do," Caleb said, looking down at his clasped hands. "Because when I was in jail, that was the only thing that held me together, thinking about you and Sam and the lives that we have built around this family of ours."

"Then you understand why I don't want to leave it," Dean said, as he buried his face in his shirt to cry.

"I understand," Caleb said, as he pulled Dean close, "but you don't have a choice. Just like _I _didn't have a choice when I had to turn myself in."

"What happens if you go to court to get us back and a judge says no?"

"Then we'll figure something out, Dean, but I don't think we should be looking that far into the future when it hasn't even _happened _yet."

"What about Sam? What will he do when we tell him this?"

Even though Dean was resisting the move with all his heart and desperately didn't want to leave his family, especially Caleb and Jim, he realized that he had little say-so in the matter.

"We'll tell him together," Caleb said gently.

"Will—will we be together? Sam and I."

Oftentimes when siblings were taken from their family's, they were separated, but Dean fervently hoped that wouldn't be the case with he and Sam.

"Yes. Dawn arranged it with the judge."

"Oh. How long do we have?"

"We have forty-eight hours, and if we don't present you and Sam to the CPS office by then, they'll come here and get you."

"So what are we going to do-"

"We'll take you there."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

"We have to go talk to Sam."

"Alright."


	44. Chapter 44

**You Can't Do This (part 6)**

Caleb wasn't sure how she did it, but she did. Within hours before their time limit with the boys was due to expire, Dawn managed to score an emergency hearing in family court with a different judge than the one who had given the boys over to the state.

The appeal that Dawn had filed immediately after the ruling, had apparently been noticed by this different judge, and the case had been handed over to her for her own determinations.

In the meantime, because of the unexpected delay, the boys had been allowed to stay in Caleb and Jim's care while the case was worked out.

Their hearing was scheduled for that morning.

"Who is this judge?" Jim asked Dawn, as they walked up the courthouse steps in the sweltering early-morning sunlight.

"She's a veteran on this circuit," Dawn said, her light brown bangs sticking to her forehead as she took a sip out of her water bottle to combat the awful heat wave that was currently tormenting the Minnestoa residents. "She's fair," she added reassuringly.

"Fair _how_?" Caleb asked.

"She looks at all sides, she does what's best for the kids."

And that was _their _goal all along—to make sure Sam and Dean were protected in all of this, and kept with the family that had raised and loved them for the past nine years.

Now it was up to this new judge to agree with them, that Sam and Dean had never been abused while in their care, and were loved and supported by the people they had only ever really known to provide for them.

Inside, there was a small wait while the case before them was tried. It gave Dawn a chance to have a last minute meeting with them in the hall, before they were called.

"So how long should this take?" Jim asked, as he nervously twisted his hands around each other.

"An hour or two. Maybe longer."

"Who are you calling as witnesses?"

"The psychologist that talked to Dean and Sam, and the social worker that came to the school."

Before the hearing, Dawn had gone out on a limb and had requested that a psychologist talk to Sam and Dean both individually and together, in order to create more evidence that supported her contention that Sam and Dean were completely fine in the care they were in.

"And what about what the state will say?" Caleb asked, as he paced around small space they were in.

He hated being in court. Every time he was in there, it seemed to be a life and death struggle. If it wasn't for his own sake, it was for the boys, and he hated it.

"It won't matter—if we can prove that these boys are fine, then the judge will have no other recourse than to reinstate the custody that you had."

"Good."

For the boys sakes, he hoped she was right. Dean had been a nervous wreck ever since Caleb had broken the news to him, and Sam had seemed to follow along the path his brother was on, and seemed terrified every time they went somewhere, thinking they would be left at a strange place.

"We're ready for you," the bailiff said, poking his head out the door.

Heaving a sigh, Caleb and Jim traded last minute glances with each other, before following Dawn into the room.

It wasn't packed with people. Instead, there were only a few people in the galley, and the representatives from the state.

Once the formality's had been addressed, the state was given their chance to present the evidence they had collected.

"These photographs," the man said, as he pointed at the picture of Dean's arm, "provide proof that his guardians were neglectful of him, and failed to provide the proper medical treatment."

After that, he called a witness that seemed to verify what he had been saying.

It was all looking bad for them, but Caleb knew that Dawn still had a huge chance to dispute what he had said, and he hoped she would.

Their final witness was someone from the school, the teacher who had made the first call to CPS.

"Is it your assertion that he was mistreated?"

"I...I'm not sure," she said nervously, as she glanced at the judge, hoping he would provide her with a clean escape route.

"Answer the question," he reminded her.

"I was concerned about the bruises on his arm. I didn't know if they had been looked at or not, and when I spoke with the other teachers, they told me that he had been absent a few times this month."

"Thank you."

After that, Dawn was given _her _chance to present her side.

Her first witness was the psychologist that she had hired to talk to the boys. He was a middle-aged man with a kind smile, and a keen sense of intelligence as he sharply paid attention to what Dawn was asking of him.

"What was your first impression upon meeting Dean and Sam Winchester?"

"I thought they were lovely boys," he said. "They were polite, well-mannered, and very sociable."

"What is your opinion of their welfare and how they are being treated?"

"Well," he said, "I can only speak from experience, and I can tell you that I have spoken with many children who have been abused inside the home, and these boys show none of the signs I have come to associate with abuse."

"Can you briefly describe some of these signs?"

"These are not typical in every case," he warned, "but these are the standards in which most experts agree on. Lack of trust, which I did not feel from either of them. They were well-engaged with me, and with their peers from what folks at their school have said.

Um, outward signs of depression or feelings of worthlessness, and again, these are different for every case, but I did not see any of this in them while I was talking to them."

"Okay, and did Dean or Sam talk about their home life?"

"Just how much fun they have, and how loved they are."

Caleb smiled.

"Is it your opinion that these boys have been abused or neglected?"

"No."

"What would be the psychological ramifications of removing them from their home right now?"

"It would be big—especially if this is the only home they have ever known, and have already experienced the loss of both of their parents. It would be very hard on them, whether or not they had each other or not."

Dawn's next witness was a child pediatrician.

"These bruises on Dean," Dawn said, pointing at the photograph. "Do you feel they are severe as the State is claiming?"

"No."

Caleb shook his head in disbelief.

"Okay, and do you feel as though they should have been looked at by a doctor like yourself?"

"It would have been advised," she said carefully, "but certainly not something that would become a problem if it wasn't looked at."

"So you would want to look at it out of precaution?"

"Yes."

"But it's not absolutely necessary?"

"No."

Dawn nodded. "The position of the bruises, do they look like marks made by a hit or punch? Or even a grab?"

"It's hard to tell, but I don't think so."

"Is that your medical opinion, ma'am?"

"Yes."

After that, the judge handed down her ruling.

"I feel like it's difficult to understand the signs of abuse when they vary so much," she began. "For one child, it could be different. For another child, it could be a whole other set of signs. But in this case, in this situation, I do have to agree with the experts called forth by the defense. I don't see any signs of abuse in these children, and I certainly think they are very content with where they are now."

Caleb breathed an enormous sigh of relief, as he traded incredulous looks with Jim.

They had won the battle before it had even really started.

* * *

**Phew! Dawn really knows how to work serious miracles. Guess what, guys? Tomorrow *fingers crossed* I am hoping to get started on and post the sequel to "Go the Distance." I sincerely hope I can!**


End file.
